


Til Death Do Us Part

by annannette (fanetjuh)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-10 14:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 35,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13503231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanetjuh/pseuds/annannette
Summary: Ilva the Winter had always imagined her wedding day to be the most beautiful day of her life. And even though she loves Jon Snow more than anything else in the world, she can't help missing the man she had planned this wedding with. But Robb Stark died on a battlefield far away from home and Ilva can only hope that he's proud of her now. Ilva can only hope that he's proud of her and Jon now.*A modern Game of Thrones fanfiction with a female OC describing the wedding day and Ilva's life with Robb and with Jon*





	1. Wedding day 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very passionate about this story, but it's complicated, delicate and vulnerable. So, this is a first draft and I might change things later on. I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

For the first time ever since she woke up at five this morning she was alone. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her golden blond hair curled around her face. Her bright blue eyes were almost popping out of her head, thanks to the mascara and gorgeous eye make up she was wearing. Her bright red lips were gleaming in the early morning sun. The moment her eyes rested on the white and blue flowers in her hair she felt the tears burning in her eyes.

This was supposed to be the most beautiful day of her entire life. This was the day she had always dreamed of. This was the day she had fantasized about ever since she had heard it existed. But now it was finally here she didn’t feel as euphoric as she had wanted to feel.

“Ilva?” Sansa opened the door to Ilva’s bedroom. “Come on! Let me have a look at you!” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited until Ilva stood up from her seat.

Ilva’s bedroom had not changed ever since she had left the house. The posters of cyclists were still covering the wooden walls. Most of the men on the pictures had quit cycling years ago already. A lot of them had admitted that they had won quite a few races with the help of doping.

She remembered how she had watched each and every race when she could. She had rushed home after work, behind the cash deck in a local supermarket, to catch the finish of a mountain stage in the Tour the France more than once. And if she had had a smartphone at the time, she would have for sure used it to keep an eye on live streams during class.

In between the cyclists were posters of book quotes. Her bookshelves were mostly empty now. Which couldn’t be said about the shelves in her own house. On the bed, with two pillows because she couldn’t sleep on only one, laid a stuffed grey wolf.

Ilva caught Sansa following her glance and Sansa swallowed while she tried to turn her head away from the little animal again. “Turn around!” She forced herself to keep on smiling and Ilva did what she was told.

She twirled around. Her white dress came straight out of those fairytale books she used to read when she was younger, when she had still believed in them. The wide skirt barely fit through the door but it waved wonderfully when she moved. The bodice was covered in small blue flowers, reflections of the ones she wore in her hair. The small sleeves were crafted of flowered lace. The silver wolf around her neck dangled against her skin when she stood still again.

“You look wonderful…” Sansa placed her hands on Ilva’s shoulders. Her skin was glowing and Ilva didn’t dare to look at her future sister in law.

She didn’t want to risk ruining her make up because she would start crying.

“Jon is gonna love it.” Sansa stepped back and she nodded, as if she had to emphasize her words somehow even though her voice didn’t allow her to do so. “You look breathtaking beautiful.”

“I know…” Ilva whispered and instinctively her hand touched the silver wolf around her neck. “I’m sure he’ll look good in a suit too.” She licked her dry lips and fought the urge to touch her face. “I hope he’s not as nervous as I am.” Ilva giggled, although she didn’t know why.

“Trust me, Jon is much more nervous than you’ll ever be.” Sansa grinned and the tension in her shoulders slowly disappeared. “He never thought he’d marry and somehow I think he’s still afraid that he’ll mess up in the very last second.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “He probably has this whole runaway bride nightmare.”

Ilva let another laugh escape her lips and she sat down in her chair again. She used to have a better chair behind the desk in her bedroom here, but that chair had moved with her ever since she had started studying. The wooden chair from the kitchen that was now serving as a replacement wasn’t too comfortable, but Ilva found her high heels to be even less comfortable and the day had only just started.

“I kept on telling him that you’re not gonna runaway, but you know Jon.” Sansa shrugged her shoulders and Ilva nodded, both at her future sister in law and her own reflection. “He wants today to be perfect. He wants it to be everything you wanted it to be.” Sansa walked towards Ilva and stood still behind her, their glances meeting in the mirror. “He wants it to be everything Robb wanted it to be.”

Ilva clenched her fists. Her knuckles were drained of all color and she had to blink a few times to keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. “We did everything exactly like we planned…” Ilva bent her head and swallowed a few more times. She didn’t want to think about him too much. And she didn’t want to think about him too little either. Because even though she had learned to love someone else, and even though someone else had learned to love the broken pieces of who she had once been, there was still a part of her heart that belonged to Robb and only Robb.

“He’d be so proud of you.” Sansa let her hands rest on Ilva’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “He’d be so proud of the both of you.” She pressed a soft kiss to Ilva’s cheek. “I’m gonna get Arya. I’m sure she wants to see you before Jon does too.”

Ilva nodded and she watched how Sansa left the room.

Ilva had always been good at being alone. She had enjoyed spending time with a book for hours. Or she had spent hours on the internet, chatting with friends from all over the world. She had been alone, but never lonely.

But right now, on the most beautiful day of her life, she felt lonely. She felt lonely because the man she was supposed to marry, the man she had planned today with, the man who should have been waiting for her down the stairs, wouldn’t be there.

That man had died on a battlefield that shouldn’t have been one. That man had died far away from home and far away from her in Afghanistan.


	2. Life with Robb 1

 

Ilva let out a deep sigh while she rushed towards the old big building in the middle of the campus. Her blonde hair was blown by the wind and the hairdo she had tried to create was probably already ruined before someone would get the chance to admire it. She wouldn’t have minded this much if she had known where she was and where she was going.

“You, pretty lady, look kinda lost.” A handsome young man with dark brown curls and glimmering eyes leaned against the stone wall next to the entrance. “You must be one of our newest freshmen and you must be late on your very first day. Excellent start!” He curled his lips up into a smile and straightened his back. “But don’t worry, Robb Stark to the rescue.” He held out his hand and a little reluctantly Ilva placed her own sweating hand in it.

“Ilva the Winter and I would say it’s nice to meet you, but I’d much rather have been in time, actually.” She pulled her hand back and with a sigh she stared at the plan in her hands again. “And here I thought that high school was a disaster.”

Robb grinned and he grabbed the piece of paper from her before she realized what he was doing. “What are you studying and where do you need to go?” He kept his lips curled up into a smile and he locked his glance with hers. “Princess?” He cocked his head slightly and Ilva felt a warm blush coloring her cheeks.

“I’m studying English literature. Well, I am going to, I’m not really doing so at the moment.” She stumbled over her own words and tucked a strand of her long blond hair behind her ear. She bit her lip while she looked up at him. “I was planning on making a very good impression on my teachers.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure I failed.”

Robb’s smile brightened and he casually wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “If you’re studying English literature you now have the introduction in the old library.” He started walking and he used his own body to guide her into the right direction. “I can assure you that you’re not too late though.” He turned a few corners and stood still in front of a smaller, but equally as old, building on the edge of the campus. “I’ll be doing said introduction.” He dropped his arm and opened the door for her so she could walk inside. “Don’t worry, I’m not a teacher. Only a junior who needs a few extra credits if he wants to not throw his chance on graduating away completely.”

Ilva looked over her shoulder to stare at him while the door closed behind them. “And here I thought you were probably such a perfect Prince Charming who aces all his classes and saves every poor maiden on top of that.” She felt her shoulders relaxing a little while Robb walked past her to lead her to the library.

“See? First impressions are deceiving anyway. You still have plenty of time to save yours.” He winked and then he opened a wooden door decorated with all kinds of curls and figures. “And I don’t save all poor maidens here on campus. That would probably lead to me failing even more classes. I prefer focussing on the ones I want to get to know better.”

Ilva didn’t get the chance to react on that statement.

The library was already filled with impatient freshmen who abruptly stopped talking when Ilva and Robb entered. Notebooks were balancing on their knees and once in a while their eyes drifted off to have a look at the more than impressive collection of books surrounding them.

The shelves were reaching the ceiling. Most of the books were bound in leather and held together by laces. The titles were written in a curly golden font and a small layer of dust completed the perfection.

This was why Ilva had wanted to study English literature, this was why she had chosen the university of New York City and this was why she had almost broken her ankle when she had found out that she was accepted.

Her entire life she had been reading each and every book she could find. When she was twelve she had already read all the children’s books in both the school library and the library in the city centre. When she was fourteen she had also read all the books she considered interesting in the adult department. And even though she had read more already than most people would do in their entire life, she really wanted to make that her job.

“Welcome newbies to the wonderful university of New York City!” Robb cleared his throat and raised his voice. “I’m Robb Stark, junior, and this year I’ll be your advisor.” He straightened his back a little and he avoided Ilva’s glance. He’d most likely already lose some credibility and respect if he would tell all the others that he was only doing this because he was on the brink of failing. He didn’t do it because he was a model student and a great example. “Today I will show you around, so you have no excuse anymore to get lost when the real classes start.”

Ilva let out a soft chuckle, but she bit her lip when every head in the room turned to her. It seemed that she had been the only one who had managed to get lost. Great, and here she thought that maybe when she was surrounded by other book nerds she wouldn’t have to feel stupid anymore.

“Let’s start with introducing ourselves, shall we?” Robb didn’t seem to notice Ilva’s discomfort or he tried to distract the entire group, which surprisingly enough seemed to work. “As I just said I am Robb Stark. My favorite book is To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.” He turned his head towards Ilva. “Ilva? What about you?”

Ilva felt her cheeks heating up again while she heard her name roll of his tongue.

“Well…” She shifted her weight a little and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m Ilva the Winter and my favorite book is The Book Thief by Markus Zusak.”

“Excellent choice! We can totally talk about that one during a cup of coffee this afternoon.” Robb smiled at her and he winked before he turned his head towards the boy on Ilva’s right. “Your turn.”

Ilva wasn’t sure if she saw it correctly, but was Robb really trying to flirt with her? She shook her head. Even if he was, she had no idea how to flirt back, although she certainly wanted to. 


	3. Life with Jon 1

 

Ilva had her eyes closed. The water in the bathtub was cold and far from pleasant anymore, but she didn’t feel like stepping out. Not yet. Because this was the only spot in the entire house where she didn’t miss him. It was the only spot in the entire house where she could pretend that he was reading a book in the living room, that he was staring at the clock, wondering if he could already knock on the door to remind her that her favorite show would be on in less than 10 minutes.

The bathroom was the only place where the pain was somehow bearable.

“Ilva?”

Ilva’s eyes flashed open when the door of the bathroom flew open with a loud bang.

“Ilva? Please…” Jon stopped in the middle of his sentence. His dark black curls danced around his face. A deep frown covered his forehead and his brown eyes rested on her. All of a sudden he seemed to realize that she was naked and that there was not enough foam in the bath anymore to hide even an inch of her bare skin.

“What?” Ilva cocked her head and she reached for the bright pink towel hanging a few inches too high above her head.

“I rang a few times and you didn’t open and…” Jon licked his lips and his hand went through his hair while he stepped back.

“You thought I had downed all bottles of alcohol in the house and laid passed out on the kitchen floor?” Ilva raised her eyebrows. “You feared that I had drowned myself in the bathtub?” She locked her glance with his and Jon opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again before the words escaped. “I’m not gonna pretend that I’m doing fine.” Ilva let out a deep sigh and she gave up on the towel above her head. Instead she lowered herself a little more in the ice cold water and hoped that the tub itself would hide most of her body. “I’m sad. I’m heartbroken. I don’t think I’ll ever feel happy again. But I’m not self destructive, suicidal or any of those things.” Ilva shrugged. “And I for sure don’t believe in all the romantic nonsense that if I die we’ll see each other again.”

Jon swallowed. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest.

“The only thing that happens if I die, is that I’ll be dead too.” Ilva leaned back and her head rested on the bright white porcelain. “I would love to hear how you’re doing, but…” Ilva took a deep breath. “Why don’t you make us some tea while I get dressed?”

“O, yes, of course.” Jon’s cheeks reddened and quickly he turned around and closed the door behind him. His heavy footsteps echoed through the narrow hallway and only after he had also closed the door of the living room, Ilva dared to stand up.

She wrapped the pink towel around her and she used her fingers to brush her long blond hair while she looked for some clean underwear and a simple dress to pull over her head.

When she entered the living room five minutes later, drops of bathwater dripped from her wet hair on her dark green dress. Her bare feet squeaked on the wooden floor of the living room and she saw how Jon leaned against the kitchen table while he waited for the water to finally boil. “How are you doing?” Ilva grabbed one of the mugs Jon had already set up. She put it back in the closet and grabbed another one. One that hadn’t belonged to Robb.

“Better than Catelyn.” Jon’s fingers curled around the edge of the table and his knuckles were drained of all color. “She can’t stop crying.” Jon bent his head and avoided Ilva’s glance. “Sansa locked herself up in her room. Arya is fighting trees with her plastic sword as if she can bring him back if she kills enough of them.” Jon paused for a moment. “Bran and Rickon are too little to really understand what being dead means.”

“I didn’t ask how they were doing, Jon.” Ilva interrupted him. “I asked how you were doing.” She walked towards her kettle and filled the two mugs with the hot water. “Any preference?” She looked over her shoulder and Jon shrugged.

“Anything but peppermint tea.” His voice trembled a little while he said it and Ilva bit her lip to fight the tears burning in her eyes.

“I already threw the peppermint tea out of the house.” Her voice sounded colder and harsher than she meant to. “I never liked it anyway.” She reached for the fruit tea and watched how the water colored a pinkish purple like. “No sugar, no milk, right?” She added three spoons of sugar to her own tea and handed Jon the other mug without waiting for his answer.

“It’s weird…” Jon waited until she sat down in one of the comfortable chairs in the living room before he sat down in the other. Before he sat down in Robb’s one. “We were not living in the same house for years anymore and still there are countless moments during the day when I miss him.” Jon took a sip from his tea, almost burning his lips and tongue, and quickly placed the mug on the wooden table in front of him. “I see something funny and wanna text him about it.” Jon leaned back and he let his ankle rest on his knee. “Whenever I’m in doubt or something I wanna call him.” He swallowed once more. “And it’s only when I call him or text him and hear that the number is out of use that I remember again that he’s not there anymore.”

“It’s hard to forget that’s he gone when this entire house reminds me of him.” Ilva curled her hands firmly around the steaming cup of tea. “We decorated together. Half of the books on the shelf are his. And the bed feels constantly cold and empty.”

“You shouldn’t be alone in this house yet.” Jon spoke softly.

“Do you still think I’d do something stupid?” Ilva shook her head, but Jon didn’t even look at her.

“Why don’t you come live with us for a while? Or go to your own parents?”

Ilva thought about his question for a moment. “If I leave this house now, I don’t think I’ll ever come back again.” Ilva tightened her grip. “The wound is never gonna heal if I keep on avoiding feeling how much it hurts. I’ll just have to get through it. It can’t hurt this much forever, right?”

“Right.” Jon reached for his mug again and kept silent for a few minutes. It wasn’t an unpleasant silence, it was not even an uncomfortable one. “Can I use the spare bedroom for a while?” He eventually turned his face towards her. “I know you won’t do anything stupid, but…” He sighed. “I’d feel better if I knew you weren’t alone right now.”

A small smile, breakable and vulnerable, appeared on Ilva’s face. “Yes, you can stay here for a while. But I don’t promise to even try to be good company.”

“That’s okay. I don’t make any promises either.”


	4. Wedding day 2

 

Ilva swallowed a few times. Tears were burning in her eyes, but she was not gonna give in to them. Not yet. She wanted Jon to see her first, wearing her bright white dress with blue flowers, wearing make up that made her look years older, and she wanted him near when she decided to break.

He would be the one with the hand kerchief. He was the one with pockets in his pants and jacket. And most of all he would make sure she wouldn’t drown herself completely in an unstoppable ocean of salted water.

“Ilva!” Her mother entered her bedroom and immediately she covered her face with her hands. She was a lot less successful at fighting her tears than Ilva was, but hers were probably happy tears. Hers were the tears of a proud mother who saw her little girl on the day she would officially become part of another family too. “Look at you! How beautiful are you then?” Her mother reached for both her hands and Ilva stood up from her chair once more. “My little girl! A bride!” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it.

Somehow Ilva herself couldn’t believe it either.

She had always seen herself married. She had always pictured herself with a baby in her arms and a toddler running through the house. But when she had lost the man she had shared that dream with, she had not dared to believe that over time her dream would still come true, but with another man.

“I’m so proud of you!” Her mother pressed her hands to Ilva’s cheeks and Ilva forced herself to smile once more. “How do you feel?” She softened her voice and Ilva caught her mother’s glance with a slight shrug.

“Weird.” She answered honestly, knowing very well that her mother could look into her soul anyway, that her mother wouldn’t even believe her if she would say that everything was alright.

For the last two years things had never been alright again. Ilva had almost forgotten how alright felt. And despite the fact that the worst pain had passed over time, she knew that the wound in her heart would never heal completely. She would never get rid of the hole in her heart where Robb used to live.

“It’s okay, honey.” Her mother pressed Ilva to her chest and carefully she placed her hand in the back of Ilva’s neck. “I’m sure everyone understands.”

Ilva stepped back and nodded. “I know.”

“Ilva!” Arya rushed into the bedroom too and only realized when she had already wrapped her arms around Ilva that Ilva’s mother was there too. “Hello mrs. The Winter!” Her eyes twinkled and the peach color dress she was wearing didn’t seem to suit the free spirited girl trapped inside of it. Arya’s short black hair was combed neatly and a black ribbon in the same color as the one around her waist had the unthankful job to tame it for the rest of the day.

“Who would have thought there was a princess somewhere inside of you, Arya.” Ilva pulled back and Arya shrugged.

“There’s not, trust me.” She rolled her eyes. “But it’s not every day that your half brother gets married to the most amazing girl in the entire world. Special outfit for a special occasion.” She twirled around on the tips of her black ballerina’s, looking way more comfortable than the white high heels Ilva herself was wearing. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Ilva smiled once more and she couldn’t help wondering what Robb would have said about his youngest sister’s unusual outfit. “It doesn’t look like you anyway. You could have come as you, you know that right? I’m sure that Jon wouldn’t have minded it either.”

“I know.” Arya nodded firmly. “You wouldn’t have mind. Jon wouldn’t have mind. Robb would have laughed about it.” She dropped his name casually but her lips trembled slightly after she had said it. “But mom and dad would totally mind.”

“It’s our wedding, not theirs.” Ilva winked and she looked up when the door of her bedroom was opened again.

“Ilva?” Her father widened his eyes when he saw his daughter standing there. He swallowed and then he walked towards his wife to press a kiss on her cheek before he wrapped his arms around her. “Is this our daughter?” His voice trembled. It was way softer than normally and he shook his head before he let out a deep breath. “It’s time to meet your almost husband.” He straightened his back and seemed to find back his confidence and control.

Ilva nodded and Arya once more wrapped her arms around her almost sister in law. “I bet Jon is gonna be the first to cry.” She whispered and Ilva grinned, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

“I hope so.” She kissed Arya on her forehead. “He doesn’t wear a very expensive layer of make up that he can ruin.”

“There is no way you’ll ruin anything. It’s impossible.” Arya shook her head. “You look too pretty for that.” She turned around and left the room as abruptly as she had entered it.

“I’m glad you found such a wonderful family to be a part of.” Ilva’s father interrupted the silence and then he offered his daughter his arm. “I couldn’t have wished for anything better for you.”

Ilva looked at her father for a short moment, before she bent her head and lifted her skirt up so she could walk without tripping over her dress. He was right, though. She had found the best family to be a part of and even though she and Robb had never gotten married, had officially never become anything but engaged, they had always ensured her that no matter what would happen, she would always be their sister. Even before anyone could even suspect that she and Jon might eventually find each other.

“He’s with you, Ilva.” Her mother whispered softly and she walked past Ilva to hold the door open. “During each and every second of the rest of your life he’s with you.”

Ilva wanted to say something, but she couldn’t even bring herself to nod, afraid that she would break down at last. She knew he was with her. She could feel it. And still she wondered how she would have felt today if it had been him waiting for her down the stairs.


	5. Life with Robb 2

 

Ilva shifted her weight and let her eyes wander through the small bar. The light was dimmed and the waiters and waitresses were like swift shadows moving around with filled trays. The smell of alcohol was almost overwhelming and Ilva couldn’t help but wondering how many people in this room were of age and how many were using fake id’s to get their fills.

“I remember when I was a first year student and this campus seemed full of danger and activities I didn’t want to engage in.” Robb leaned back in his chair. His ankle rested on his knee and he took a sip of the cup of tea he had ordered. He could have ordered another drink if he had wanted. He could have ordered beer, wine, cognac, whatever it was that he preferred, but he had assured her that there was absolutely nothing that could compete with fresh mint tea.

Ilva had not commented on it. The smell of the fresh mint tea made her slightly sick. She had always had that, even though she had no idea where it came from. She had never liked peppermint, she hated the taste of most toothpastes and thinking about having to swallow that tea down almost made her throw up.

To mask the smell a little, she kept her own fruit tea as close to her nose as possible while taking small sips from it once in a while.

“I can assure you that you will get used to it.” Robb’s charming smile seemed to be permanently plastered to his almost angelic looking face. His bright blue eyes were the clearest blue Ilva had ever seen in her life and the wild curls curling around his face gave him an almost boyish look. If he wouldn’t have had a perfectly trimmed beard, she wouldn’t have believed he was two years older than she was.

“We’ll see about that.” Ilva had not forgotten about her first meeting with her classmates, how they had stared at her, how they had judged her, just like everyone in high school had done. Maybe this was just another place in the world where she wouldn’t fit in.

“I wouldn’t make promises I can’t keep. My parents have raised me to be a gentleman and although I might disappoint them occasionally, I am not planning on disappointing them on that department. It would break both their hearts.”

Ilva shook her head and she took another sip from her tea while she thought about her own parents, far away from here, probably wondering how her first day at college was. She would have to call them tonight to tell them everything. Although she wasn’t sure yet if she would tell them about Robb. “And here I thought chivalry was something only existing in books.”

Robb raised his eyebrows and he cocked his head playfully. “What’s your favorite book? And no, I am not asking for the answer you’re supposed to give when studying English literature. I’m asking for your true answer. The book you enjoyed reading the most.”

Ilva thought about that question for a moment. She had enjoyed the book thief. It was not just an answer she gave because she knew she was supposed to come up with a somehow sophisticated answer. But Robb was right that she would never call it her favorite book of all time. “Fine, I’ll admit it. I’m one of those girls that fell for the romantic fantasy trope.”

“Twilight?” Robb had a twinkle in his bright blue eyes and Ilva threw her head in her neck.

“I read it and I enjoyed it, but I wouldn’t go as far as calling it my favorite book of all time. I read so many better books in the exact same genre after I read Twilight.”

“You make me curious, miss the Winter.” Robb tightened his grip on his mint tea, but he kept his eyes on her. “I promise that I won’t make fun of any of your choices. You have my word.”

Ilva relaxed a little, but she did avoid his glance while she went through all the books she had read in her life. She thought about the books she had read as a little girl, the ones she had read secretly, when her parents were already asleep, because she couldn’t put them aside. And she thought about the books who made even her believe in a happily ever after. “The wolves of Mercy Falls.” She eventually answered. “Maggie Stiefvater.” She looked up and shrugged. “If Maggie had written adult literature, she would win award after award. I’m pretty sure that some people would say she wastes her talent on Young Adults. I’m happy she does. Because I love her stories. She made me like wolves.”

Robb’s smile brightened. “You like wolves? What a wonderful coincidence! They happen to be the symbol of my family.” He noticed her confused look and rolled his eyes. “My ancestors came from England and had a title. The title isn’t worth much here in America, but somehow we can’t part from it either.”

“You really have to show that symbol to me.” Ilva smiled back at him. “There is one thing I love even more than fantasy romance.” She didn’t give Robb the chance to interrupt her. “Royal fantasy romance.”

“I assume that implies that to win your heart, I’ll have to be the perfect Prince Charming?” Robb winked and he leaned over the table towards her. “Luckily that is exactly who I prefer to be.” He spoke softly and Ilva felt her cheeks heating up. “Don’t worry, Ilva, we will do everything just like in all those old books. A few dates, a romantic walk over campus, a picnic on one of the huge grass fields. If you want me to, I can ask your father if I get his permission to officially court you.”

Ilva snorted, a giggle escaping her lips and the tea almost coming out of her nose. “If you want my father to laugh himself to dead, that sounds like the perfect way to do it.” She licked her lips and placed her cup on the table in front of her. “But, that walk over campus and that picnic on the huge grass field sound nice.”

“Perfect, I will pick you up this Friday evening for that walk and on Saturday we can picnic, if the weather is nice.” Robb raised his eyebrows. “And promise me that you won’t read the Throne of Glass series from Sarah J. Maas anytime soon, because I don’t want you to know where all my inspiration to impress you comes from.”

Ilva shook her head. She had secretly already read that series, but that was not something he needed to know. Not yet. She wouldn’t want to ruin her own novel finally reaching that part where everything changes for the better, the part where you feel the happy end nearing.


	6. Life with Jon 2

 

Ilva knew it was a dream. She knew because she had dreamed the same thing over and over ever since Robb had died.

She had never dared to ask for details. She had not wanted to see his damaged body, afraid that the last memories she had of him would be erased or replaced by images of his bloody and barely recognizable face. She had not listened when a commander had tried to explain what had happened, how this could have happened and how sorry everyone was that this had to happen to Robb, to their family.

But even though she didn’t know how he had died or how he had looked after he had died she kept on dreaming about it. She saw his face in burning flames, his mouth wide open to scream a soundless cry for help. She saw other soldier aiming their guns at him, piercing his heart once, twice, three times or even more often. She saw mines exploding, bombs landing barely a feet away from him. She saw his head being separated from his body, holes in his face where his eyes should have been, missing limbs spread out over the battlefield.

With a loud scream her eyes flashed open. Her blanket was on the floor and tears rolled down her cheeks while she tried to stop trembling.

Some people had told her that the pain would fade, that one day she would wake up and feel better. It was hard to believe them at the moment. It was impossible to believe them at the moment. No matter how many days had passed already, the pain didn’t fade and every time she woke up she felt worse, so much worse.

“Ilva?” Jon pushed the door of her bedroom open. He was wearing nothing but a black boxer short and a white tanktop. His dark black hair was a giant mess and his bare feet were almost sliding away from under him. “Ilva? What’s going on?” He rushed towards her bedside and kneeled down next to her.

Ilva quickly reached for her blanket and covered her own body with it. Her green nightgown was barely covering her thighs and a shiver rolled down her spine while she turned away from Jon, her face to the wall. “Just go back to sleep, Jon.” She murmured. She bit her lip and buried her face in her pillow to hide the salted tears that were still rolling down her cheeks.

“Not before I know that you’re somehow okay.” Jon didn’t move. The tips of his fingers touched her blanket and eventually Ilva turned around to face him again.

“Somehow okay sounds nice.” Ilva whispered. She stared at the clock on her nightstand and saw that it was barely three in the morning. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon, so don’t get your hopes up, please.” She stuck the tip of her tongue between her slightly parted lips.

Jon kept silent. He lifted his hand up and paused for a moment, as if he was debating whether or not to place it on her shoulder, on her side, anywhere. Eventually he put it back on the edge of her bed.

“It will happen again, Jon.” Ilva closed her eyes to avoid his glance, afraid that if she would keep on looking at him, into his worried eyes, she would not have the courage anymore to tell him what was actually going on. “It has happened every night ever since…” She didn’t finish her sentence. Somehow the pain was too heavy and the wound too fresh to say it out loud, especially right after her nightmare. “There is no need to rush into my room like this. It won’t prevent it and it won’t change much.”

Jon sat down on the floor. He crossed his legs and took a deep breath. “You don’t know if it doesn’t change much.” He shrugged and he folded his hands in his lap. “You’re not the first one to lose the love of her life.” He paused. “And with all those wars you’re not gonna be the last one either.” His lips trembled. “I’m not the first or last brother losing one of his best friends. My family is not the first or last one losing a brave soldier.”

“Please, Jon…” Ilva pushed herself up. She wrapped her blanket around her body and she was glad that Jon had not turned the light on. At least he wouldn’t be able to see how red and swollen her eyes were. “Don’t tell me that it gets better. Everyone tells me that and so far nothing got better.” Ilva paused for a moment. “And somehow I don’t know if I want it to get better.” Her last words were almost not hearable, nothing but a soft and unclear whisper.

“You don’t?” Jon raised his eyebrows and he moved a little closer towards the bed. His chin rested on the mattress and Ilva waited for a long moment, weighing her next words on her tongue before she spoke them.

“It hurts to be reminded of him everywhere, but…” She wiped the tears away from her cheeks. “I’m somehow afraid that there will be a moment I’m not reminded of him anymore. I’m afraid that I’ll stop missing him. That I’ll stop longing for all those happy moments we’ve shared.” Ilva bit her lip. “Because if I stop missing him and if I stop thinking of him and if I stop remembering him, he’ll die for a second time.”

Jon reached for her hand. His hand was big, sweaty, but his held was strong and he squeezed her gently but firmly. “Robb will never be forgotten.” His voice was steady and it echoed all around them. “I will not forget him. My sisters and brothers will not forget him. Catelyn will not forget him. And you will for sure not forget him.” He tightened his grip, almost hurting her now. “No one is asking you to forget him, Ilva, but…” He pushed himself up. “At the moment our memories hurt. I hope that one day, we’ll talk about him with a smile on our faces, remembering how funny he was, how gentle he was, how charming he was and how happy he was.”

Ilva shook her head. “I don’t see that happening anytime soon.” She turned to her back and folded her hands behind her head. “Go back to bed, Jon. We have to make it through another day tomorrow.”

Jon hesitated for a moment, but then he turned around and walked back to the door. “It won’t get better, Ilva.” He looked over his shoulder. “It will get different. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Jon.”


	7. Wedding day 3

 

Ilva didn’t feel quite stable on her high heels. She was not used to them. Usually she wore flats of sneakers or simply anything that was way more comfortable than the shoes she was wearing right now. She slightly regretted that she had let her mother and Catelyn talk her into wearing them anyway. Her skirt was more than long enough to cover her feet. No one would even notice what shoes she was wearing and all the pain, that was already starting right now, would be for absolutely nothing.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married today.” Her father whispered once more, slowing his steps now they were on top of the stairs leading to the hallway.

“I can’t believe it either.” Ilva let out a deep sigh, but she curled her lips up into a smile when her father pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before he squeezed her hand.

“Be happy, Ilva. Be as happy as you can be.”

She closed her eyes for a short moment and then she reached for the railing. The palm of her hand was sweating and she was afraid she would slip, but she took a deep breath and after one last look over her shoulder to exchange a glance with her mother she started to walk down, step by step.

Jon was wearing a navy blue suit that made his dark hair glimmer in the early morning sun. He had a bouquet of white and blue flowers in his hand and his knuckles were pale white, drained of all color, because of his tight grip. He shifted his weight and eventually he looked up and his eyes met Ilva’s.

She felt her smile brightening. Her heart was hammering in her chest, almost breaking her delicate ribs, but Jon nodded at her and she nodded back at him.

He looked handsome. More handsome than he had ever looked before. Maybe it was the gleam in his eyes. Maybe it was his radiant skin. Maybe it was because she had not run away, because she still wanted to marry him even after a night of sleeping alone in her old bed in her old house. “You’re beautiful…” He whispered, his voice barely hearable but his lips spelling the words for him. “You’re so so beautiful.” He swallowed.

“You don’t look bad yourself.” Ilva answered. She made sure to not go too fast. It would be typically her to trip over her skirt and fall down the stairs. Even though she had never broken a bone in her body before, she could totally see it happening that her very first time actually breaking something apart from her heart would be today. “Actually…” Ilva let out a relieved sigh when her foot reached the ground floor safely. “You’re quite handsome today.” She wanted to lean on the tips of her toes to press a kiss on his bright red lips, but she felt a hand on her shoulder pulling her back before she could do so.

“I’ve read that kissing the groom, or the bride, on your wedding day before you’re allowed to brings misfortune.” Bran’s lips formed a straight line and his eyes looked sincere and serious while he spoke. He was young, too young to speak of anything that seemed to peak his interest, but most of the time when Bran said something he was right. All those hours with his nose in a book seemed to pay off in some way.

“Thank you for reminding us of that.” Ilva stepped back and she tucked a strand of her long blond hair behind her ear. Her cheeks were glowing and she hoped that the make up would cover the redness. “We’ll wait.” She let out a sigh and Jon pressed the bouquet of flowers in her already trembling hands.

A blue ribbon was tightly wrapped around them, holding the flowers together. Picking blue as the main color for today had sounded like a good idea all those years ago. It had sounded like a good idea when Ilva had joked that she had to surround herself with blue today to prevent herself from drowning in Robb’s eyes.

But Robb wasn’t here. And now those blue ribbons and blue flowers and blue everything was simply reminding her of him every second and every minute of today.

“I’m sure he’s looking at you and he’s probably slightly jealous that I will be the one you’ll say yes too.” Jon leaned towards her and he spoke softly, but when Ilva looked over his shoulder she saw how Catelyn had clearly heard every word he said.

Her bright red hair, the exactly same shade as the hair of her daughter, was braided beautifully, forming a crown around her head. During the last few years she had started to look much older than she actually was. Parents were not supposed to outlive their children and even though at least Ned had never had to deal with the pain of losing his son, Catelyn was now left with nothing but a broken family and the son that wasn’t hers marrying the unofficial widow of her fallen sweetheart. But she was here. And even though she was on the brink of crying, she found a way to keep a smile on her face.

“I don’t think he’ll be jealous.” Ilva shook her head. “I think he’s proud of us and how we’re doing without him.” She blinked a few times to make sure no tear would roll down her cheek. “And please, don’t make me cry already. My make up should be waterproof, but let’s not test it. I don’t know how waterproof it is.”

Jon smiled at her and after Ilva smiled back he offered her his arm. “Are you ready, misses the Winter?” He turned his head towards her and Ilva nodded while he pulled her arm through his.

“I’m as ready as I can be.” She meant it.

Despite the pain and despite the hole in her heart where Robb used to live, this was what she wanted and what she needed. She wanted to move on and make as many dreams as possible come true. And she wanted to do it with someone who knew that there was a part of her that would never stop hurting.


	8. Life with Robb 3

 

“You look absolutely gorgeous, Ilva Stark - the Winter.” Robb reached for Ilva’s hand and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles. The smile on his lips brightened when his eyes met hers and little lights of joy danced in the endless sea of bright blue that was staring at her. “I hope it doesn’t make you uneasy if I call you that? I simply wanted to try out how it sounded and how it felt to say it.”

Ilva rolled her eyes and she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. She already regretted the high heels she was wearing, but she had read the dresscode considering gala’s and she was afraid that without those high heels she would not make it in. Her brand new red dress showed a little more cleavage than she was used to, but at least her skirt reached the floor.

“Are you ready to be escorted to the official headquarters of the New York Wolves?” He cocked his head and even though he was wearing a black suit and a blue tie matching the colors of his eyes, he was still looking almost boyish. No matter how he was dressed or how he spoke, he never seemed to be able to shake it. Maybe he didn’t even try.

“After everything you’ve told me about that fraternity of yours, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to go there.” Ilva pulled her hand back and she used it to stuck a loose strand of hair that had escaped her braid behind her ear. “It’s that I feel horrible for all those other women who’ve come there, else I would have stayed at home in my pajamas to watch Netflix.”

Robb chuckled while he threw his head in his neck. “I’m sure that all my friends, myself included, will be at their best behavior tonight. I don’t vow for any of them during normal evenings when it’s men only, but under the watchful eyes of so many pretty girls, we can’t do anything but keep ourselves in check, can’t we?” He turned around and offered Ilva his arm.

She shook her head while she grabbed it and she watched how her dorm mate closed the door behind them with a smirk on her face. “You do realize that at some point you will be out of fairytale-dates, do you?” Ilva’s high heels ticked on the linoleum of the hallway.

The walls of the building were bare. It was impossible to guess how long ago the last painter had entered it, but it had to be around the time it was built. And even though it was not allowed to smoke inside, the walls had witnessed more than a few secret cigarettes over the years.

“What are you implying, Ilva Stark - the Winter?” He raised his eyebrows while he glanced at her. He called for the elevator while he kept on looking at her and Ilva felt her cheeks blushing. “Are you afraid that you won’t love me anymore once I’m out of prince like moments and have to find refugee in mundane activities?”

Ilva smiled and stuck the tip of her tongue between her lips. “You should be the one afraid of that, since I assume that in that case I will be the one breaking your heart.”

“Your heart can break only once, they say.” Robb lead Ilva into the elevator and they both turned around to watch the doors close. “It would be my absolute honor to have mine broken by you, princess.” He casually wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her a little closer towards him. He didn’t attempt to lean towards her or kiss her.

There had been quite a few moments Ilva had thought that maybe it was finally going to happen and maybe Robb was finally going to give her her very first kiss, but he had never done so.

It almost seemed as if he was waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect location and the perfect circumstances. It was a pity that perfect didn’t exist, although Robb Stark came dangerously close to it.

Apart from the fact that he was failing his classes and felt the threat of having to quit his studies constantly hanging over him.

“Charmer.” Ilva lifted her chin and straightened her back while she walked out of the elevator once it had reached the ground floor, but she stood still when she saw the black limousine parked in front of the door. “What the…”

Robb placed his strong hands on both her shoulders. “I already promised that I would make sure you would travel in style today, princess.” He pushed her towards the expensive car, but Ilva wasn’t capable of moving.

She had her jaw dropped and she stared at the glimmer, at the paint that seemed to be sprayed over this car only yesterday, at the dark black windows reflecting her but keeping everything and everyone inside hidden for the outside world. “I was actually expecting a carriage, considering the fact that you’re letting yourself be inspired by royal princes.”

“You will be surprised, but carriages with four horses are more expensive than hiring this limousine for tonight.” Robb grinned and he walked towards one of the doors to open it. “And although money is not a factor as long as my father doesn’t hear about my grades, I thought that the limousine would be more comfortable too, to be honest.”

“I don’t even doubt that.” Ilva stepped in and she stiffened when she noticed another boy with a pretty girl next to him already sitting in the car.

“Ilva? This is Jon, my half-brother with his date Ygritte.” Robb climbed into the limousine too and he pressed his hip firmly to Ilva’s. “Ygritte, Jon, this is Ilva, the girl…”

“You can’t shut up about.” Jon interrupted him and a smile spread across his face. Instead of stretching out his hand he reached for a bottle of champagne and opened it. His dark black curls were tied into a bun and with the smile still on his face he offered Ilva one of the glasses. “I’ve heard a few too many things about you.” He paused for a short moment and Ilva swallowed. “Don’t worry, Robb only told me the good.”

“Because there is only good to tell.” Robb shrugged and he made himself comfortable while the car started moving. “You’ll see it for yourself, brother. Ilva the Winter is perfect and that is exactly why this time I want to make sure I don’t ruin it.” He started to speak softer and softer. “Because one day, I’m gonna marry her and she’s gonna be Ilva Stark - the Winter.”

Ilva had to admit that envisioning them marrying seemed like a far stretch right now, considering the fact that they hadn’t even shared a kiss yet and weren’t officially a couple, but for some reason the thought of being his wife one day made her heart skip a few beats while a pleasant warmth spread through her entire body. Ilva Stark - the Winter. She had to admit that it didn’t sound bad at all.


	9. Life with Jon 3

 

Days passed. Nights passed. Weeks passed.

Jon didn’t rush into Ilva’s room anymore at night. Not when she was screaming. Not when she was crying. Not when she was turning from one side to the other or simply staring at the ceiling above her head. But Jon had been right.

Eventually the nightmares started to fade.

“Morning.” Jon walked into the living room. His hair was a mess and he was wearing a white shirt and loose pants. His bare feet walked towards the big table and he sat down in a chair opposing Ilva. He seemed still half asleep, but he reached for one of the slices of toasts Ilva had made and took a bite from it without putting anything on it. “You didn’t scream last night.” He had his mouth half full when he spoke, but Ilva looked up from her own plate and swallowed.

She had indeed not screamed last night. She had not even cried last night. For the first time ever since she had gotten the message that her future husband had died on a battlefield far away from home she had slept through the entire night. A part of her was happy that she wouldn’t be having those nightmares for the rest of her life. Another part of her was afraid. Afraid that this was the start of the big forgetting.

One day she wouldn’t remember the exact shade of his bright blue eyes anymore. Another day she would have forgotten how his voice sounded when he just woke up and whispered in her ears. At some point she would not know anymore how the color of his hair differed depending on how many hours he had spent in the sun. And with every little detail she would forget, a part of him would die again and again and again.

“It’s a good thing.” Jon put the slice of toast on his plate and reached for the butter and the honey. “You’re too young to stop living.”

Ilva let out a deep sigh. She knew that Jon was right. She was barely twenty years old. She was too young to mourn her dead fiancé for the rest of her life. She was too young to spend her days in an old chair staring at the world that kept on turning. She was too young to count down the days until her life would be over. “I know.” She replied and she leaned back in her chair.

“When will you go back to college?” Jon was the first one to ask her that question.

“I don’t know yet.” Ilva stared at her hands, folded in her lap. She was a junior now, just like Robb had been when they had met each other. Her grades were a lot better than his had ever been though and if she would return to her classes now she would maybe be able to catch up with everything she had missed.

She was just not sure if she was ready for it. She had never been on that campus without Robb.

He had shown her the park, where he had taken her for a picnic a few days after they had met each other. He had been there when they had gotten lost in the library and had spent an entire night there just because they could. He had walked her to all her exams, always kissing her before she walked in because he was certain that his kiss would bring her luck. And even though he had been forced quit his studies and eventually went to serve in the army, he had still come over whenever he could.

“You wanted to be a teacher, right?” Jon interrupted the endless stream of thoughts and Ilva nodded. “Middle school? High School?” Jon took another bite from his toast, this time with butter and honey.

“I wanted to teach English Literature in High School.” Ilva curled her lips up into a careful smile. “I’ve always wanted a teacher who was as passionate about books as I was, someone who didn’t just follow a textbook but who actually cared about those stories, the writers.” Ilva paused for a moment. “So, that’s why I wanted to become that teacher myself.”

Jon kept silent for a moment, chewing on his breakfast and he only spoke again when he had finished. “That’s a nice dream.” He paused. “And one that doesn’t involve him.”

Ilva locked her glance with his and she took a few deep breaths. Jon was right. This dream didn’t involve Robb. It had already existed long before she had met him and deep down she felt that it still existed, that it still tucked at her sleeves, that it was still there waiting to come true.

“You can start with attending a few classes. See how it goes.” Jon kept on looking at her and Ilva felt all the protests she could come up with die on her lips. “If it doesn’t work, you can take the rest of the semester off, but maybe…” He shrugged. “Maybe it distracts you a little.”

Ilva thought about his words and reached for another sandwich. At some point she would have to gather all her strength and start living again. At some point people would stop understanding that she was heartbroken and sad. At some point the world would stop waiting for her, would stop waiting until she was ready to step into it again. “I’ll go back on Monday.” She gave herself a few more days. A few more days to get used to the thought, to gather her books and notes, to be able to look at the novels on the shelf again without crying because half of them were his.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Jon spoke softly, but his lips curled up slightly. “I can take a day off, if you need me.”

Ilva shook her head. Not because she didn’t need him, because she did. But this was something she would have to do alone. This was something she would have to face alone. The last thing she wanted after depending on Robb so heavily that she could barely stand the thought of being on campus alone, was making herself depend on someone else.

Even if that person was Jon and knew exactly how she felt.


	10. Wedding Day 4

 

Ilva kept her chin high while she and Jon walked towards the door. She smiled when Rickon touched the soft fabric of her huge skirt while she walked past him and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the bright white old timer in front of the door.

She had never been a huge lover of cars. It had been one of the many things Robb and Jon used to talk about. She had never minded just sitting by and listening. She had enjoyed the passionate fire in their eyes when they yelled out brands and type numbers not even ringing the slightest bell in the back of Ilva’s mind. She had even endured waking up in the middle of the night because of some car race on the other side of the world, just because nothing could beat watching Jon and Robb fanatically shouting at a screen at men in colorful suits who couldn’t even hear them.

“It’s a Rolls Royce Bently S1.” Jon leaned towards her while he lead her towards the car. “It has always been one of our favorites.”

Ilva smiled and she bit her lip while Jon opened one of the doors. Quickly Sansa hurried towards her to help her to get her dress in without ruining it. Only when both Sansa and Ilva were sure that she was safely seated and ready to go, Jon closed the door and walked towards the other side to slide in next to her.

“Are we ready to leave?” The driver looked at them through the mirror and Jon and Ilva nodded.

For a moment they just sat there in silence. They waved at the friends that had gathered in front of the house, the house where she had lived for so long, but still would never really feel like home anymore. They would all get into their cars too to follow them to the small chapel on top of the hill.

“Is everything alright?” Jon was the first to break the silence. “Are you ready? You still don’t regret any of this?” He paused for a moment. “It’s not to late to call this whole thing off, you know?” His voice trembled a little and Ilva placed her hand on his upper leg.

“I’m ready.” She spoke softly even though there was no one to hear them apart from the driver in the front seat who acted like he was too focussed on the road to hear them. “I’m as ready as I can be and I don’t regret anything.” She spoke firmly and she pressed the palm of her hand to Jon’s stubbled cheek.

He looked really handsome today, but he still wore that frown on his forehead. No one had probably ever seen him without it and the older he got, the deeper it grew.

“I need you.” She had the tip of her tongue between her lips. “I want you.” She took a deep breath. “And I love you.” She smiled at him and Jon leaned towards her.

He had his eyes closed and just when his lips were about to touch hers, she turned her head away so his lips only brushed her cheek.

“Remember what Bran said…” Ilva bent her head and a small giggle escaped, echoing through the car that was big and small at once. “The last thing I want is more bad luck in my life.”

“Damn Bran…” Jon shook his head and his hand reached for hers, their fingers entwining. His touch felt safe and warm. When he was near it was like nothing could harm or hurt her. And even though Jon wasn’t known for his brightness, the world seemed a little lighter when she was with him.

“I’m glad they’re all here today.” Ilva tightened her grip on Jon’s hand. “I can’t imagine how hard it is for them and I don’t even want to know how hard it is for Catelyn.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t have come if I had married any other girl.” Jon squeezed back. “She’s here for you.” He stared out of the window, to the houses they passed, to the cars that caught up with them easily, to the curious kids on bicycles looking in, attempting to catch a glimpse of the bride and groom. “She’s here for him. She’s here because he would have wanted her to.”

Ilva kept silent. She kept on holding onto his hand and she watched him, glancing at the outside world. “She lost her husband and her son. She’s amazingly strong, but she’s not flawless. Not being able to love you is her biggest flaw.”

Jon looked back at Ilva and he tucked a blond curl behind her ear while he nodded. “I never thought I’d see Arya in a dress.” He changed the subject and Ilva allowed him to.

“She only wears one because she was afraid Catelyn and Ned would be mad at her if she didn’t.” Ilva shook her head. “I already assured her that it’s our wedding and not theirs, but I couldn’t change her mind.”

“She’s wrong though.” Jon leaned back and he rested against the head rest. “Father wouldn’t have been angry with her. He would have pretended to be. But he would have smiled and he would have been proud.”

Ilva had not known Ned. She had only heard stories about him. She had heard countless of stories about him and about how he had raised his children, all his children including Jon. She had always believed him to be a great father and a maybe even greater friend. Sometimes she missed him, even though she had never really met him.

“But she’s right about Catelyn.” Jon pulled her hand in his lap. “She would have lynched Arya if she had not shown up as a proper lady.”

Ilva leaned back too while she thought about the little girl, growing up to be stronger and smarter every day. “Arya is a proper lady. With or without dress.” She allowed herself to close her eyes for a second, just a second, and smiled once more. “I hope that Catelyn will one day realize that her daughter is beautiful in her own and I hope that Catelyn can be proud of her.”


	11. Life with Robb 4

 

“You shouldn’t spent the entire evening sitting here in a corner watching people on the dance floor.” Robb stood in front of Ilva and he reached for her glass of soda and placed it on the table. “You should be in the middle of that dance floor with me.” He held out his hand and Ilva shook her head while she placed her hand in his.

“Charmer.” She hated her high heels and the pain they caused in her feet and ankles, but the atmosphere at the ball made up for it. She had read about balls like this in books and most of the time people had ended up too drunk to function, but that didn’t seem to be the case here.

“I promised you that I would give you all those dates following many of the romantic books you’ve probably read.” Robb lead her through the crowd to the middle of the dance floor. A chandelier hung above their heads and the weak light of the fake candles brightened their faces.

On a small stage a blond haired singer curled her hands around the microphone. Even though the music never stopped, she took a few breaths and a few sips from her water. She let her eyes wander through the crowd and her eyes rested on Ilva and Robb.

Robb had his arm firmly around Ilva’s waist and he pulled her as close to him as possible. Their chests were touching and his hand rested on her lower back.

“This song is about love, love that was, love that is and love that will be.” The girl on stage waited for the music to change its rhythm and melody and then she closed her eyes and pressed her lips almost to the microphone while she started singing.

“We can’t keep on living our life like it’s a fairytale, Robb Stark.” Ilva whispered, but her words still reached Robb’s ears. “At some moment you’ll be out of inspiration.” She leaned on the tips of her toes and she pressed her forehead to his.

Robb smiled and he tightened his grip, even though that was barely possible. “I fear the day that real life will catch up with us and will remind us that we are not actually the leading couple in a New York Times Bestseller.” Robb let his lips linger over Ilva’s skin. “Do you think you will still love me when I can’t invite you to join me at fancy dinners?” He twirled her around and caught her back in his arms. “When I will serve you wraps on the couch in my dorm because it’s all I can afford and all I know how to actually make?”

Ilva grinned, but she knew that it was easy to say that she would love him even then. Right now she would probably say that she would love him for ever, but she knew all too well that this was only the blissful state of a fresh and new love.

Right now everything about him was beautiful.

She didn’t complain about the smell surrounding him when he visited her during a small break in his morning run. Instead she admired the golden brown curls glued to his forehead. She didn’t mind that he always ordered mint-tea, even though she had already told him that the smell of it made her sick, because she liked the smile on his face when he took the first sip. She was fine with him answering his phone whenever any of his family members called him, because she liked his loyalty and devotion towards them, seeing it as a sign that he’d be a faithful husband and an excellent father.

But times would change. The butterflies in her stomach would eventually calm down. The laughter would be replaced by annoyance. The teasing would make room for fights.

Would she still like the smell of his sweat in a year? In two years? In three years? Would she still not complain if he kept on ordering mint tea during their hundredth date or their thousandth? Would she still be okay with him always being there for his family when they were in the middle of a fight? Or when she felt lonely and forgotten?

“Your long silence might concern me a little.” Robb furrowed his eyebrows and he leaned back so his glance could meet hers. “I know that I’m going way faster than one should go, but every second wasted feels like a lost moment I will never get back.”

Ilva rolled her eyes and she let out a deep breath. “I know the charming version of you and don’t get me wrong, I really love that version of you, but…” She paused for a moment and she used her index finger to wipe a curl from his forehead. She drowned in his blue eyes while doing so and she almost forgot what she was about to say. “Maybe we should stop acting like we’re the prince and princess of this fantasy world. Maybe we should cook miserable dinners in our kitchen. Maybe we should spend an entire evening on each other’s couch watching movies or programs we don’t care about. Maybe we shouldn’t wonder if we still love the normal and less perfect versions of each other. Maybe we should just try it.”

Robb kept silent, but his grip around her tightened again and a smile spread across his angelic face. “Do you know which part of you I love the most?” He rocked her back and forth in his arm, slowly turning and turning. The people on the dance floor faded. The music faded. But his blue eyes, his wonderful smile and his angelic face remained. “I admire how you can dismiss my questions without making me feel offended.” He grinned and Ilva smiled back at him.

“You shouldn’t be.” Ilva pressed the palm of her hand to his glowing cheek. “I know I love this Prince Charming version of you. I know that as long as we pretend that life is a romance novel written by Jane Austen we will be fine.” She cocked her head. “But I love you too much to keep pretending. I want to know if there is a future for us, a real one. One where we deal with this world, with its problems and ugliness, with the good and the bad. One where you’re not a prince and I’m not a princess. One where we do make wraps because that’s all we can make.” She pressed her other hand to his neck. “Fairytales never start with a happily ever after.”

Robb’s hand slid over her back, around her neck and while the music slowed down Robb closed his eyes and leaned towards her.

Ilva held her breath. She felt a shiver rolling down her spine and for a moment her mind wanted to take control and ask a thousand questions. But her heart didn’t allow her head to pull back, because it knew exactly what to do.

The moment their lips touched a pleasant warmth spread through her entire body and her eyes closed. His lips were soft and he tasted like mint and surprisingly enough Ilva didn’t feel even the slightest bit of sickness.

She just wanted more. So she parted her lips and she carefully let the tip of her tongue touch his while her hands moved through his curls.

The ball had already been perfect, but it was even more perfect now.


	12. Life with Jon 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the order of the chapters. I discovered I was dragging out the wedding day to tell the other two stories. By fixing the order, I will make all three stories work better. I hope.

 

Ilva’s fingers were trembling while she tried to open her front door. She was tired. She could barely keep her eyes open and each step seemed to be even harder than the one before. She had never known that one day at college could be this exhausting and overwhelming.

She has lost count of how many times someone had asked her if she was okay. She had lost count of how many times she had answered that she was trying to make the best of it, that she didn’t want this to stop her life, that she was too young to waste the rest of her time behind the windows watching the world just turning and turning. And she had lost count of how many times she had not meant a word of what she had said.

The door swung open and Ilva hung her jacket over one of the chairs. Her footsteps echoed through the empty apartment. She wasn’t the only one who had left the house this morning to see if she was ready for life to start again.

Jon had left this morning too. He had asked her at least ten times if he really shouldn’t take another day off to go with her to campus, but she had assured him that he could go to the office, that he could distract himself by writing articles for magazines and newspapers, that he could leave her alone for one day.

Ilva fell down in her comfortable chair. She was too tired to even put the television on. She was too tired to grab her phone and call her parents to let them know how today had been. She was too tired to walk to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Maybe she could order pizza for the two of them. Or noodles. But only after closing her eyes for a brief moment.

“Ilva?”

Ilva’s eyes flashed open when a strong pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Jon…” She straightened her back and her hand went through her hair to hide the fact that she had been so fest asleep. “What time is it?”

“It’s seven pm.” Jon’s voice sounded raw and he stared at her with his eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed over his chest. “How was your day? When did you come home?”

Ilva took a deep breath and stared at the clock. She couldn’t have slept two full hours, it was just not possible. But the clock on the wall proved Jon right and Ilva bent her head to stare at her feet. “I’m sorry I don’t have dinner ready.” She reached for her phone and searched through her contacts until she found the pizzeria around the corner. “What pizza do you like?”

Jon shook his head and he opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. “Something with mushrooms.”

“That’s not a pizza, Jon.” Ilva’s fingers tapped on the wooden armrest and she switched her phone to her other ear. “But fine, I’ll see what they have with mushrooms.”

Five minutes later she hung up and with her phone still in her hands she leaned back in her chair. “I came home at five. I just wanted to close my eyes for a moment. I didn’t mean to sleep two hours.”

Jon sat down in the other seat and he folded his arms in his lap. “It’s okay. How was your day?”

Ilva shrugged. She had been on the brink of crying from the moment she entered campus to the moment she had left it again. She had seen his ghost wherever she had been. She had seen him in the library, pointing out the books she didn’t need, but he would have liked. She had seen him in the auditorium, commenting on the professor like he had always done when she had told him about her classes. She had seen him on the grass field, on a blanket, with a picnic basket, like he had been waiting for her to join him.

“Are you okay?” Jon cocked his head and he placed his hands on his upper legs. He tightened his grip on the fabric of his jeans and he bit his lip. He was clearly not expecting her to answer yes and he would for sure not answer yes himself if she would return the question.

“He was everywhere.” She buried her face in her hands and attempted to hide her tears. “Maybe I should transfer to another campus, to another college, to a place where he hasn’t been yet.” She tried to stop crying, but it was almost impossible. “If anyone still wants to have me, because I’ve heard at least five times that people were glad to finally see me again.”

Finally. As if taking a few months to mourn the man who would have become her husband was way too long. As if she should have been over him by now. As if everyone had moved on and expected her to do the same. Had they expected the same from Catelyn when she had lost her husband? Or did being officially married make so much of a difference to so many people?

“I know the feeling.” Jon whispered. “My chef wanted me to write an article on the army. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that I lost my brother on a fucking battlefield.”

Ilva looked up when Jon cursed. He cursed rarely, but when he did the curse was raw and pure, filled with hatred and pain. “I hate people. It’s for their safety that soldiers give their lives on those battlefields. It’s to make sure that monsters can’t come to our home, that dictators can’t rule the world. And how do they thank our soldiers and those they leave behind? By telling them to act like everything is fine and this is just another day.”

The long silence that followed was interrupted by the doorbell.

Jon stood up from his seat. His movements seemed slow and heavy, as if every step pained him just as much as each step pained Ilva.

Ilva had lost her future husband, her best friend, her mate.

Jon had lost his brother, his comrade, the only person in the world he trusted for the full hundred percent.

Ilva smiled. She didn’t wish for Jon to be in pain, he didn’t deserve it, but somehow the weight of her loss felt less heavy because there was at least someone who carried it too.


	13. Wedding day 5

 

Normally the car ride from her parent’s house to the church nearby lasted only ten minutes, or even less when the streets were empty. Today the car crawled, barely going faster than any walking person could go, to give everyone who had waved after them the chance to catch up and watch them step out of the car again once they arrived.

Ilva had grown up in this neighborhood. She had played games with the girls living behind the closed doors, if they had not moved out too, just like her. She had had sleep overs where they did loads of things apart from sleeping. She had flirted for the first time with a boy living two blocks away in a treehouse they had built together.

All those memories seemed so long ago, so far away. As if it had all happened to a different girl in a different time. A girl who had not known what would be waiting for her when she would leave this safe village to go to college. A girl who didn’t know that in storybooks things always got much worse before they got better again.

“We’re almost there.” Jon squeezed her hand. He had his lips curled up into a smile and Ilva smiled back at him. “This will be the last time I can call you miss the Winter.” He winked and Ilva shook her head while her smile brightened.

“I think Lady Snow - the Winter has a funny ring to it.” She had to stop herself from leaning towards him, from stealing a kiss anyway, despite the warnings of bad luck waiting for her if she would break one of those many sacred rules surrounding the ceremony of marrying.

“We really have to be careful when we pick names for our children.” Jon let her hand go while the car stopped in front of the broad path leading towards the huge entrance of the church.

The church, not a cathedral, but still quite impressive considering the fact that it was located in the middle of a village with barely a thousand people, bathed in the light of the morning sun. The windows, decorated with holy paintings in the most vivid colors, reflected the rays of light and Ilva had to shield her eyes to prevent herself from going temporarily blind. The bells were ringing, creating a strange song above their heads, echoing all through the village that liked to call itself a town.

Friends and family stood in front of the giant wide open doors and watched how Jon stepped out and walked around the car to open Ilva’s door.

Ilva held her white dress firmly while she attempted to step out as gracefully as possible. She made sure her shoes were steady before she pushed herself up and she straightened the fabric before she reached for the bouquet of flowers that she would have to hold for the rest of the day.

Jon offered her his arm and walked her towards Arya and Sansa, looking more like sisters than they had ever done even though their features were opposing each other.

Sansa was tall, even taller now that she was wearing high heels, and her bright red curls waved over her shoulders. Her almost angelic looking face, covered in a layer of expensive make up, made her look older than she actually was. It was almost impossible to call Sansa a girl. With every day that passed, and for sure on occasions like this, she was growing up to be a woman in both her posture and her attitude.

Next to her sister Arya looked even tinier than she already was. She had not even attempted to make herself look taller and her short brown hair, not even reaching the crook of her neck, made her face look almost boyish. Arya didn’t mind. She didn’t apply layers of make up to look older or girlier. She didn’t long for attention from boys or young men. And from all the Stark siblings she was probably the one looking like her father and oldest brother the most.

Ilva swallowed and she barely felt Jon’s arm letting her go.

“Don’t trip on your way to me, please?” Jon raised her eyebrows and Ilva forced herself to keep the smile on her face while Robb’s image danced in the back of her mind.

It would be totally like her to trip over her dress during this important moment, but she licked her lips and tried to hide the tremble in her voice. “I’ll try.” She looked after Jon while he disappeared through the wooden doors, followed by all their friends and most of their family members.

Bran was holding Rickon’s hand firmly while they walked after Jon, as if Catelyn had given him the task to look after his younger brother and he was taking it way more seriously than he actually should.

“These are your very last moments as Ilva the Winter.” Sansa giggled. She was probably more excited about this entire wedding than Ilva was herself, but her enthusiasm was containious. “I’m so happy for you and Jon!” She reached for Ilva’s hands and squeezed them, before she turned around and waited for the music to start playing.

Catelyn swallowed and she accepted the extended hand from Ilva’s mother who lead them to their seats on the front row.

Ilva felt her father’s strong hand on her shoulder. “Your last moments as a the Winter.” He had no son who could carry on his name and even though he would never admit it out loud, there was a part of him that wished his name wouldn’t get lost.

“I’ll always be a the Winter, dad.” Ilva took a deep breath and she tightened her grip on her bouquet of flowers while her other hand curled around her father’s arm. “I will never stop using that last name completely.”

Ilva Snow - the Winter.

She would have to come up with a new autograph to sign her official papers with. She would have to change her name on countless websites. She would have to fill in forms and she would get new credit cards and a new driver’s license. She wondered how long it would be before she would get used to her new name.


	14. Life with Robb 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, I need to post three more chapters to catch up with the new story structure and already posted parts. After that, I'll post the new chapters in the right order again. I hope you guys don't mind!

 

Ilva was just going to the dorm of her boyfriend, of the boy who had invited her to all those fairytale like dates. They would just spend a normal evening together, watching television, eating wraps, talking and laughing. But somehow that made her nervous. As if it was more intimate, more personal. As if it was much scarier than living in a fairytale.

All those fancy dates had been easy in a way. They had talked about food during their picnic. They had exchanged book tips during their walks over campus. They had danced and chatted with all his friend during the ball.

Now it would be just them. Just them and the television. Ordinary. No subject picked already. No lines or borders. No clear cut road.

Ilva shivered. She wore her comfortable flats and her hair was loosely braided. The braid hung over her shoulder and she wore a simple dark blue shirt with a Disney print on it. She had shaved her legs this morning, because despite all those normalcy she had wanted to wear a skirt. All of a sudden she wondered if that wouldn’t be too special.

It was too late to change her mind though.

She had reached Robb’s front door and her finger trembled while she rung the bell.

“Welcome to casa Stark - Snow!” Robb opened the front door from his dorm upstairs. “You will find our quite messy but clean place on the second floor. I’m afraid that the elevator broke down though, so you’ll have to take the stairs.”

“I’ll survive getting to the second floor I think.” Ilva shook her head and pushed the door open. “If you don’t see me there in two minutes, something bad happened.” She didn’t wait for his reaction and entered the hallway.

The hallway didn’t look much different from the one in her building. The walls were a boring white. Maybe because no one had ever attempted to paint them a certain color. Or maybe because every time someone tried they were painted white again the next morning.

Ilva looked up when she climbed the stairs. She smiled when she saw Robb’s golden curls above her. “My two minutes aren’t up yet!” She laughed and her laugh echoed all around her.

“A true gentleman can never be too sure about not needing to save his damsel in distress.” Robb leaned forward and Ilva shook her head while she climbed higher and higher until she stood next to him.

“I’m not a damsel in distress, Robb Stark. In this story the princess saves herself.” She pressed the palms of her hands to his cheeks and her lips brushed his.

His arms slid around her waist and he lifted her up while he turned around and walked towards the only door that stood wide open. “Jon is helping Arya with her homework tonight, so you and I have the entire dorm for ourselves.” He whispered when he put her down in the middle of the giant room.

The room was twice the size of Ilva’s apartment and she wondered if that was a pleasant byproduct of their so called royal roots in England. Clothes were covering the floors and the two beds were hastily made, but the table and the chairs in front of the television were empty and ready to receive her.

“Jon and I tried to clean up the worst, I promise, but I didn’t want to give you the impression that my normal was absolutely spotlessness. That would raise the bar that hight that even I can’t reach it anymore.” He stepped back and Ilva saw the posters on the walls.

Rockbands, expensive looking cars and motorcycles and loads of banners with a wolf on it.

“I thought you told me that the wolf was your family weapon?” Ilva walked to one of the banners and her fingertips touched the soft fabric.

The banner was red and white. The text on it was long gone already, just like the text on almost all other banners was unreadable.

“It is.” Robb nodded. “My father therefore collected banners from sports clubs and fraternities all over the world that had a wolf in their flag.” He took a deep breath and his eyes wandered over the thousand different colors and shades. Sometimes the colors started to fade already, but he seemed to love all of them equally much since his smile only brightened. “Father died two years ago in Iraq.” Robb spoke softly and didn’t turn his face towards Ilva. “One of the many landmines that were hidden. He was a good man, but mother hated all those sigils so Jon and I decided to take care of it.”

“I like it.” Ilva reached for his hand and their fingers intertwined. “And what is that incredibly nice smell coming from the kitchen?” She turned towards him and changed the subject easily.

Robb freed his hand from her hold and scratched the back of his neck. “I’m afraid that’s take away. I wanted to attempt to cook for you, but I’m afraid that attempt already died when I forgot to do the grocery shopping. But I assure you nothing I make comes even close to those taco’s.” He pressed a soft kiss on her nose and disappeared into the kitchen.

A moment later he came back with two plates, knives and forks and a plastic bag with food. “Jon and I always eat in front of the television. The kitchen is too small to actually be cozy and after a while you’re out of topics to talk about anyway.”

“I’m fine with eating in front of the tele.” Ilva bit her lip and she sat down in one of the chairs. The furniture was clearly not brand new, but it all felt surprisingly welcome. “But, if we’re gonna show each other our normal evenings, I would really love to watch Neighbors.”

“You are joking right now, are you?” Robb placed everything on the table and he fell down in the other chair. “Who would have thought that you would be interested in something shallow like a soapseries?” He teased and Ilva used her foot to kick him.

“Do you want to know why I like watching soap series?” She didn’t give Robb the chance to actually answer her question. She simply assumed he would have answered yes anyway. “Because when you’re watching a soapseries there is no way you can still think your own life sucks. No matter how bad things are, those characters in a soapseries always have it worse.”

“For someone enjoying something as superficial as Neighbors, you have quite a wise and thought through reason behind doing so.”

“I know. I had years to think about it.” Ilva reached for the remote control and turned the television on. “Trust me, after one week you’ll understand almost each storyline, I promise.”

“And this is why we should have stuck to our fairytale like dates.” Robb rolled his eyes, but they glimmered and his lips were curled up into a smile. “You’re already making me do something I swore I’d never do.”

“You’ll survive, which can’t be said about the characters in Neighbors.”


	15. Life with Jon 5

 

Ilva took a sip of her tea, but she spit it out almost immediately when she noticed the tea had gone cold during the last few hours. She had completely forgotten about it. With a sigh she closed the book she was reading and she headed to the kitchen to get herself a new cup.

Normally she would have finished the book already by now, but now she needed a minute for every sentence to actually sink in. She couldn’t focus on the story, on the characters. She couldn’t lose herself in the plot and twists and turns.

But tomorrow she had her first test ever since she had gone back to college and she was determined to make Robb proud. She was determined to show the world that even damaged and broken she could still do this, she could still make her dream come true, she could still become a teacher, she could still graduate as an English literature major.

She would make it through this book. Maybe she would have to read all night. Maybe she would only close the book when the sun already started to rise in the morning. But she would eventually reach the last page and she would be able to answer all the possible questions the professor could ask her about motivations, themes and general arcs and development.

“Still up?” Jon leaned against the wall with one arm crossed over his bare chest and a cup of hot chocolate in the other hand. His boxershort hung low on his waist and his messy black hair looked like a comfortable home for a bird.

“At least I have a good reason to be still up. What’s your excuse?” Ilva walked past Jon and turned on the kettle before turning around again to face him.

He shrugged. “I don’t really know.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate, the brown liquid leaving traces on his lips. “I think I’m waiting for you to go to bed too.” He wiped the traces away and locked his glance with Ilva’s. “You can’t pass an exam when you haven’t slept.”

“You can’t pass an exam when you didn’t read the book it’s about either.” Ilva let out a deep sigh and the loud beep of the kettle almost scared the crap out of her. “I’ll get a few bottles of coke in the morning to keep me awake until after the exam and then I’ll crash on my bed to sleep for days.”

Jon kept silent for a moment while Ilva filled her mug with tea, but she didn’t hurry to go back to the living room, back to her seat, back to her book. “He’d be so proud of you…”

Ilva felt a shiver rolling down her spine when he said the words. She was not sure if it was a pleasant shiver or not. “He was always proud of me, no matter what I did.” A small smile crept across her face and she folded her hands around the mug before she took a small sip. “It’s a good thing that I had loads of other people to keep me grounded, else my ego would have outgrown this world.”

Jon curled his lips up into a smile too and after he emptied his cup he reached past Ilva to place the mug in the sink. “He meant every word of it.” Jon spoke softly. “He never did it to win your heart, he really meant it.” He paused for a long minute. “You were the most beautiful, intelligent and amazing woman in his entire life.” Jon shook his head and stared at his bare feet. “You should have heard Sansa when she found out that another woman had taken her place as his First Lady.”

“I guess that explains why she didn’t like me very much when we first met.” Ilva grinned. “It’s unfair that God takes the purest and loveliest souls so early.”

“It’s totally unfair.” Jon nodded. “But luckily he doesn’t take all pure and lovely souls.” He bit his lip and Ilva swallowed, but decided not to say anything, not to interrupt him, not to react. “God didn’t take you.” Jon looked up and when his eyes met hers she noticed something there she had never seen before. “And I’m glad he didn’t.”

Ilva froze. Her muscles stopped moving. Her heart stopped beating. Her feet were glued to the floor. “Well…” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I guess that’s because I didn’t send in my job application when he asked for a new guardian angel.”

“And you think Robb did?” Jon raised his eyebrows.

Ilva stuck the tip of her tongue between her slightly parted lips. “He signed up for the army. He wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps. I don’t think he meant that last part literally, but still.”

“Do you blame him for it?” Jon stepped a little closer towards her. “For joining the army? For leaving you alone for so long? For accepting that dangerous job?”

“I already did before he left.” Ilva took another sip from her tea, almost burning her tongue this time. “His father had died in Iraq. And now he was signing up to go to Afghanistan. His father had died, leaving his mother behind with a whole family of children. He knew the risks and he took it.”

Jon sighed. “When Robb wanted something there was no way to reason with him. We have that in common.”

“But you never joined the army.”

“No…” Jon shook his head. “I didn’t.” He smiled. “I didn’t wanna give Catelyn the satisfaction of finally getting rid of me.”

Ilva chuckled, her chuckle slowing developing into a real laugh, the kinda laugh she hadn’t laughed for months. “You didn’t not do it for Ygritte?”

Jon furrowed his eyebrows, but eventually he shook his head again. “What Ygritte and I had was…” He paused for a moment. “Amazing and wonderful, but…” He licked his dry lips and seemed to search for the right way to phrase whatever he was trying to say. “We never put the other first.” He bent his head again. “There were always things more important than us being together.”

“Joining the army was more important to Robb than staying here with me.” Ilva whispered and her fingers trembled, almost dropping the mug to the floor. “His honor was more important than staying here with me.”

“He loved you more than anything and anyone in the entire world.” Jon swallowed. “He already regret going there before he even arrived.” He placed his hands firmly on Ilva’s shoulders. “You and Robb were meant to be, okay? You were not like me and Ygritte.”

“I hope you find her one day, Jon.” Ilva looked at him and shook of the uneasiness Jon had caused a few minutes earlier. “You deserve her.”

Jon let go of her and stepped back. “I guess I should go back to bed.”

“I guess I should go back to my book.” Ilva smiled and headed towards the door. “Sleep well, Jon.”

“Good luck reading, Ilva.”


	16. Wedding Day 6

 

The wooden doors were still closed. Sansa and Arya were standing next to each other with a small basket with white roses. As soon as they would push the door open the music would start playing and the ceremony would officially begin.

Ilva took a deep breath. Everyone was nervous on their wedding day and she knew that no matter who she had married she would have had this weird feeling in her stomach and this trouble breathing. But she was sure that in her case the nerves were quite a little bit worse.

“Are you ready?” Sansa looked over her shoulder and her glance met Ilva’s for a short moment.

Ilva was ready. She was ready to officially change her name. To bind her life to someone else’s. To promise to stay faithful and loyal, through better and through worse, through sickness and health, until death would eventually part them. She hoped that Jon wouldn’t be taken away from her any time soon. She was not sure if she would recover from a second hole in her heart, from having her entire soul being ripped away from her again. She threw her head in her neck and looked up at the ceiling above her head. She was not sure if God lived there, but she prayed to him anyway.

“Please…” Her lips whispered, formed the words without making any sound. “Don’t take him away from me until we’ve lived our lives and fulfilled our dreams. Don’t take him away from me before we are both old and gray, with so many years behind us that we can’t remember all the good moments anymore, that even today is nothing but a vague memory.” She took a deep breath. “Please, God, Gods, whoever is listening to me. I need him. I want him. I love him.” She closed her eyes and realized too late that a tear rolled down her cheek. Quickly she used the tip of her finger to wipe it away and then Ilva nodded at Sansa.

Sansa pushed the wooden doors open. Everyone in the church stood up from their seat and looked over their shoulder to the two bridesmaids, the bride and her father. The music, a small orchestra from campus that had played on each and every fraternity occasion, started playing a classical piece of music that both Robb and Ilva had once fallen in love with.

Ilva straightened her back and lifted her chin. She curled her hand around her father’s arm holding him firmly. She focussed on her feet, on placing one foot in front of the other, on walking slowly, on not tripping over her dress, on making sure she kept on breathing and kept on fighting all the other tears that wanted to roll down her cheeks but weren’t allowed to.

Friends she had not seen in years were standing in the last rows. They wore smiles on their faces, but tears in their eyes. Most of her friends, and most of Jon’s friends, had known Robb too. And so far there had not been a person who had not at least liked the Stark boy.

The last time Ilva had seen them all together had been at Robb’s funeral. She felt her chest moving up and down rapidly and she closed her eyes while she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. She was not at his funeral right now. She was at her wedding. And in front of the church Jon was waiting for her.

Ilva opened her eyes again and she saw the frown on Jons forehead. He had his arms folded in front of him and he bit his lip while he kept his glance on hers. The moment he noticed that she was watching him he nodded and Ilva nodded back at him a careful smile spreading across her face.

Her breathing calmed down. Her heartbeat slowed down and she loosened her tight grip on her father’s arm before she would actually hurt him. She blocked the music, the melody that had echoed through their apartment way too often. She blocked the friends on the last rows. She blocked Catelyn on the front row who had finally allowed her tears to escape.

When Sansa reached the altar she bent her head and placed her basket next to the chair that was reserved for her. Arya did the same on the other side of the altar and then they both waited until Ilva reached Jon.

“Take care of my daughter for me.” Ilva’s father placed her hand carefully in Jon’s and he held onto it one moment longer. “Promise me to do everything you can to make her happy.”

Jon nodded firmly. “I won’t disappoint you.” He locked his glance with Ilva’s father and then Ilva’s father let their hands go and stepped back to walk to his seat, next to Ilva’s mother. “You made it.” Jon whispered and Ilva bent her head while she used her free hand to tuck a stand of hair behind her ear.

“Barely…” She shook her head, almost invisible to everyone else in the church. “We should have picked another entrance song.” She chuckled, even though she felt a lingering pain in her chest.

“You made it.” Jon repeated his sentence once more and he squeezed Ilva’s hand. For a moment they just stared at each other.

Everyone else in the church was nothing but a blur. The music faded until it was completely gone. Seconds passed, minutes passed, but somehow it felt like time stood still.

“It’s not too late to change your mind.” Jon leaned towards her and Ilva smiled, but shook her head as quickly as she could.

“I haven’t changed my mind, Jon Snow. And I never will.” She took a deep breath and turned towards the priest who was patiently waiting for them to be ready. “There is nothing I want more than this, than us, than marrying you and becoming your wife.”

It was the absolute truth. Because without Jon, without his presence, without his hand holding hers and his words soothing her mind, her life would be nothing but sadness and darkness. Without Jon there was nothing but an empty heart and a broken soul.


	17. Life with Robb 6

 

Ilva stared at the clock while she wiped the pearls of sweat from her forehead. The food was in the oven. Her dorm was as clean as it had been the last time her mother had gone through it. She had even made her bed, although she hated that task more than anything.

She took a deep breath and another one and another one. She made it. She was absolutely ready. Her dorm was absolutely ready. Nothing could go wrong anymore.

She shook up when the doorbell rang and on the tips of her bare toes she ran towards the intercom. “Casa the Winter, who’s there?”

“Ilva, I would love to give you a wonderful charming reply right now, but I’m afraid I am not in the right mood to come up with one. Can you please just open the door and let me in?” Robb’s voice sounded different, sadder. The usual excitement had disappeared and there even seemed to be a slight hint of panic.

Quickly Ilva pressed the button to open the front door and she reached for her keys while she rushed down the three stairs towards him. “Robb?” She cocked her head when she saw him.

His eyes were a little red and a little swollen as if he had been crying. The usual smile on his face was gone now, replaced by a thin straight line. When his eyes met hers she saw hurt and pain and most of all shame.

Deep down she already knew what had happened, but maybe she was wrong. Hopefully she was wrong. She could totally be wrong. “What happened?” She carefully walked towards him and his hands slid around her waist while he buried his nose in her shoulder.

“It’s over…” Robb’s voice broke, he broke. Salted warm tears dripped down on her bare shoulders, but she just let him.

She wrapped her arms around him and rocked him back and fourth.

“I should have concentrated on my grades and study more, but I thought they were not as serious as they apparently were.” He sniffed. “I’m Robb Stark! I’m the eldest of the Stark children! They were not going to send me away from this place.” He just held onto her and Ilva just held onto him. “It seems that not even I can charm my way out of everything.”

Ilva kept silent for a moment. When she had wished for normal things to happen to them, for normal life to catch up with their fairytale, she had not wished for this, she had not wished for Robb to be sent home. “Maybe English literature was just not your thing?” Ilva wiped a curl from his forehead and she pressed the palms of her hands to his stubbled cheeks. “I’m sure you’ll find something else, something that suits you better, something that will work out.”

“I hope you do know that it is not English literature I will be sad about.” Robb let out a deep sigh. With the back of his hands he wiped the tears from his cheeks and he took a deep breath, as if he had to find his steady voice again. “I do know that English literature was not where my heart was. I do know that studying is and will never be where my heart was.” He cocked his head and his lips curled up into a sad smile. “But New York University is. All my friends are here. My half brother is here. My fraternity is here. You are here.”

“Come on!” Ilva raised her voice and shook her head. “You don’t really think you will lose me because you will have to move who knows where, do you?” She grinned. “You promised me a happily ever after and I told you that’s not where fairytales start. It seems that I was right, but I want you to be right too.” Ilva pressed a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “And I’m sure the same goes for your half brother, you fraternity and your friends. It’s not because college sends you away that we all of a sudden forget about you.”

A soft chuckle escaped Robb’s lips and he reached for Ilva’s hands, holding them firmly. “You really would still want to be my princess, even though my future lies who knows where, maybe miles and days of traveling from here?”

“Humanity invented airplanes and trains and busses and cars.” Ilva shrugged her shoulders. “If distance would be that much of a problem, what worth would this all have?” She let her fingers caress his knuckles. “If you really feared that I would be one of those girls breaking up with you, simply because she can’t handle not being together twenty-four seven, you are wrong, Robb Stark.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned towards him to kiss his lips.

“Ilva…” Robb pulled back and swallowed. “What are your plans for Christmas?” He locked his glance with hers.

“I usually celebrate Christmas with my family. We go to church, watch some terrible Christmas movies, have dinner with my grandparents.” Ilva whispered, already knowing what his next question would be.

“Would you be willing to spend the Christmas days with me and my family this year? I understand that your parents and family want to celebrate the holidays with you too, but if they allow you to spend Christmas with me and my family, I would happily accompany you to the New Year’s Eve celebrations, if there are any in your family.”

“It’s not anything fancy…” Ilva tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We just play boardgames or watch television and eat a lot of things that are not healthy for you because everyone is starting a diet on New Year’s Day.”

“It sounds more than perfect to me.” Robb nodded. The traces of his tears were still visible on his cheeks, but the smile had lost the sad edge. His eyes were sparkling again and somehow Ilva couldn’t help but smiling at him.

“Well, that’s settled then. I’ll go tell my parents that they’ll have to celebrate Christmas without me and you will tell your family that you won’t be there on New Year’s Eve.”

“I was going to phrase this a little differently, to be honest.” Robb cocked his head and he licked his lips. “Because I think you will be a wonderful addition to the family, which is worth the small sacrifice of me not being there when the New Year starts.”

“I’ll try that approach with my parents too.” Ilva grinned and then she reached for his hand. “And now you really have to get upstairs. I actually cooked and if we stay here for another minute everything will be ruined and we’ll be stuck with takeaway again.”

“Are you implying now that you have any issues with me ordering takeaway instead of failing to attempt to cook for you?”

“No, Robb Stark, I’m implying that I actually succeeded at cooking dinner and don’t want to throw it away.” She climbed the stairs again without letting go of Robb’s hand.

“You can’t judge your own cooking skills, Ilva the Winter. I will tell you whether or not you’ve succeeded.”

“Trust me.” Ilva opened the door to her dorm and enjoyed the pleasant smell surrounding her. “I succeeded.”


	18. Life with Jon 6

 

Ilva opened the front door of her apartment and ran through the hallway, through the living room towards the kitchen. The smell of food, or an attempt of making it at least, filled her nostrils, but she had different things on her mind, better things on her mind. “Guess who passed all her tests last week?”

Jon turned around. His curls were glued to his forehead and his black short was covered in different spices and leftovers from whatever was in the pans. “You did it?” He raised his eyebrows and then his lips curled up into a smile. “I’ve always known you could do it of course.” He nodded at her and Ilva nodded back.

“It costed loads of nights of sleep and a thousand times more energy than before, but I did it, I passed!” She raised her voice for a moment and then the smile on her face faded. “I passed the tests Robb failed…”

Even though Ilva was not ready to admit it out loud, there were more and more moments she could forget the sadness and pain plaguing her heart. All those spots and places that had been theirs, were slowly becoming hers too. All those books he had spoken about, were slowly becoming books like many others. The unique fingerprint he had left on her life, on everything around her, was accompanied by her own, by the fingerprints of others. Campus wasn’t just Robb anymore.

“He would have been so proud of you.” Jon leaned back and he scratched his neck. “He knew you could do it, of course, but he’d be proud of you anyway.”

Her lips curled up a little again and Ilva sat down on one of the wooden chairs. “You were right.” Her voice was soft, almost breakable. “The pain is fading.” The pain wasn’t gone. She doubted if it would ever be fully gone. But it was fading. “Life feels less heavy.” She continued and heard how Jon finished preparing their dinner. “Sometimes I can even feel the light of the sun making it through the dark black clouds.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Jon placed a plate in front of her and gave her a fork and knife. “You can’t live in darkness for the rest of your life.”

“Robb and I liked the darkness.” Ilva’s smile brightened when she thought of all the nights they had spent together, asleep or awake or somewhere in between. “Especially when we stayed at your place.” She bent her head and her fingers drummed on the wooden table.

“Yeah, everyone knew that.” Jon placed the finished food in front of her. Even though the smell was a little debatable, the food looked decent enough to be eaten. “You two weren’t that good at hiding things.”

Ilva took a deep breath and filled her plate with as much as she hoped she could eat. Even though the pain was slowly fading, her appetite was not fully back yet. “How are the others doing, actually?” She looked up at Jon, who sat down in the chair opposing her.

Months had passed ever since Robb had died and Jon had moved in with her. Strangely enough she had grown that used to his company, that she had not visited the rest of his family. And the rest of his family had not visited her.

“Sansa and Arya miss you.” Jon cocked his head. “They want to give you time and such, knowing that they’ll remind you of him, but they miss you.”

Ilva nodded. She started to miss them too. She started to miss the secret conversations they were having in the library, where Sansa and Ilva talked about boys while Arya made very clear she was interested in them at all. She missed recommending all those books to Sansa that fuelled her longing for a Prince Charming. She missed hearing the latest gossips of Bran and his best friend Meera and whether or not they had shared a kiss already. She missed being part of their big family.

“And Catelyn…” Jon shrugged. “She’s not telling me much, but she’s not really doing well. She takes care of his grave and brings new flowers every day and apart from that…” Jon paused for a moment. “She’s spending most of her days in bed, crying. Sansa is taking care of the others, their food and the household.”

“But Sansa should be studying…” Ilva looked up. She had needed months to get to this point, to make it out of the house again, to focus on books and tests again, to live again. And she had only known Robb for two years.

His mother had buried both her husband and her eldest son. His mother had lost two of her most priced possessions. If Ilva had needed months to get back to functioning a little, Catelyn would maybe need a life time.

“Maybe we should visit them.” Ilva swallowed and she pushed her plate away. All of a sudden her appetite was gone completely, but she knew that this was the right thing to do. “Maybe I should go with her to his grave and leave some flowers and kisses.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe I should help Sansa a little so she can study some more.”

“Ilva…” Jon reached for her hand over the table. “You don’t have to take care of them, okay? You’ve got enough on your plate already.”

Ilva shook her head. “I’m not planning on taking care of them and moving in or something.” She sighed. “I just want them to know that…” She paused for a moment. “If they want me, I’m not going anywhere.” She locked her glance with Jon’s. “I know that I was only part of this family because of Robb, because I was his girlfriend and his fiancé. But it doesn’t have to end because he’s gone.”

“I can’t really speak for Catelyn, but I’m pretty sure that to the others you’re still as much part of the family as you were a couple of months ago.” Jon reached for her other hand too. “You’ll always be part of my family.”

Ilva curled her lips up into a smile. “Ask them if we can come visit tomorrow. My exams are over and maybe I can finally get a good night of sleep again. I need it.”

“I’ll text Sansa, but I’m sure we can come whenever we want.”


	19. Wedding day 7

 

The song Robb had loved so much and Ilva hated at this very moment eventually faded. The orchestra put their instruments down on their knees or on stands on the floor and everyone in the church sat down in their seats.

Ilva took a deep breath while she turned towards the priest. A couple of weeks ago the priest had visited their appartement. They had talked about Robb, about Jon, about what Jon meant to her, about how she felt about marrying the half brother of the man she was supposed to wed. He had promised her to make this an unforgettable day, but still she was afraid of his words, of his speech, of the possibility that they’d make her cry.

Jon entwined his fingers with hers and he squeezed her hand gently.

A smile spread across her lips and while she waited for the priest to start his welcome speech she felt her shoulders relax a little.

“Today we have gathered to witness two people crowning their love with a promise.” The priest cleared his throat. “Welcome Jon Snow, son of Ned Stark and an unknown mother.” He nodded at Jon and then he turned to Ilva. “Welcome Ilva the Winter, daughter of Cornelis the Winter and Maria the Winter.” He nodded at her too and all of a sudden Sansa and Arya rushed towards Ilva to help her to sit down without damaging her dress.

Ilva smiled at them while they stepped back to admire their own work, but even now they were sitting down Jon’s hand reached for Ilva’s and he kept on holding onto her tightly.

“Ilva and Jon have found each other in the darkest of times. They’ve found each other when they needed a shoulder to cry on and a crutch to lean on. And in the light of what brought them together, the promise they will make today is worth more than any other promise I’ve ever witnessed and blessed.”

Ilva felt her chest moving up and down rapidly and Jon tightened his grip on her. The priest didn’t say with that many words what everyone, including Ilva and Jon, was thinking right now. Strangely enough Robb’s death had brought them together.

If Robb had still been alive he would have been the one sitting in the chair next to Ilva’s. If Robb had still been alive, Jon would have been seated on the front row, probably attempting to keep his little brothers in check. If Robb had still been alive, Ilva would have never looked at Jon like she was looking at him right now. He would have been a friend, a dear friend, and nothing more.

Ilva turned her head towards Jon. The small second of silence seemed to last an hour considering the huge amount of thoughts that went through her mind. She loved Jon. She knew that for sure. She loved him more than anything and anyone else in the world. She never would have loved him if Robb had still been alive, but she did love him.

“For a lot of people it’s easy to promise that they will support each other through the good and the bad times, through sickness and health, through darkness and light. Luckily most people don’t know what such a promise entails and how hard and heavy it can get.”

Ilva bent her head and stared at her hand, at the white knuckles because she was holding onto Jon so desperately, at the pearls of sweat glimmering on her skin because she was nervous and maybe even slightly terrified.

In a way this was one of the most beautiful days of her life. She looked like a princess. She felt like a princess. She was surrounded by everyone she loved and even those she had barely talked to over time. But there would always be someone missing. For the rest of her life. She would miss him today. She missed him on both their birthdays. She missed him during the Christmas days and New Year’s Eve. In a way she would also be glad if this day was over, if she could go back to those normal days. She could handle those normal days. She had learned how to do that over time. The normal days were the only days that were easy.

“Jon and Ilva know exactly what they promise each other today. They’ve seen each other at their worst and they’ve decided that even those worst versions of them are still worth it. Those versions are worth loving, worth fighting for and worth taking care of.”

Ilva turned her head to Jon and Jon locked his glance with hers. The smiles on their faces brightened and they thought about all those times they had just spent the entire evening not talking to each other. They thought about all those times they had been angry and crying, screaming and fighting. They though about those times they had wanted to shatter into a thousand pieces and needed the other to keep them together.

“Today we celebrate their love, their friendship. Today we celebrate how they are the light in each other’s lives and we celebrate their bond that will never be broken. It’s my honor and my absolute pleasure that I will be the one to make their promise official, to take their vows and give them my blessing.”

Ilva was still looking at Jon and he was still looking at her. They also remembered those times they had laughed without being able to stop, even though they had both believed they would never do so anymore. They remembered a million giggles, a thousand kisses, countless nights of all of a sudden believing in a lost future again. They thought about the family they would start, about the names they would give their kids and about their lives that had only just started.

“Before we continue with this ceremony, I would like to invite Margaery, a dear friend of the Stark family, to sing the song she has prepared for this occasion.”

Ilva looked over her shoulder and she saw how Margaery Tyrell stood up from her seat. Her brown hair was curled more perfectly than Ilva’s. She always wore a smile on her face and she always had a glimmer in her eyes. She wore a blue-green dress that went a little too well with all the decorations, but she had her hands folded in front of her while she walked towards the microphone in silence.


	20. Life with Robb 7

 

“Ilva…” Robb shook his head while he locked his glance with Ilva’s. “I understand that meeting my family might be quite intimidating, but I assure you that they have already seen the car fifteen minutes ago when we arrived here and are now most likely convinced that we’re using it to celebrate our last moments of solitude.” His lips curled up slightly and the glimmer in his eyes, caused by the lights of the burning lanterns, could barely hide his amusement. “I don’t mind such speculations, but I do have to admit that either we start living up to them or we finally get out of the car to greet them.”

Ilva let out a deep sigh and once more she stared at the house, at the red front door with the Christmas decorations covering it.

The house didn’t look big enough to house the entire family, but all the burning lights and candles, the Santa Clauses and the coloured curtains did look cozy.

“You’ve got a big family, Robb. I have to find my courage.” Ilva rolled her eyes. “You know I’m not that great with people and making friends. These are a lot of friends I have to make considering my usual score. Two sisters, two brothers, your mother, your half brother…”

“You already met Jon, so I propose we do not include him in your ridiculous stage fright.” Robb placed a hand on her thigh and his comforting strokes almost managed to distract her from all her worries and fears.

“What if your mom hates me?” Ilva looked at him, her eyes wide open and her lip slightly trembling. “What if she thinks I have no manners? What if she thinks I’m a horrible match for her eldest son?”

Robb leaned towards her. “I am aware that there are a thousand voices in your head telling you a million things that are not true and rather unlikely to happen. I am aware that this fear feels very real to you and is quite overwhelming, but I assure you that everything will be absolutely fine.”

“You can’t assure me that! Just because I love you and have a click with you, it doesn’t mean I’ll have a click with all of them! Do you even like all of them?” Ilva threw her head in her neck and closed her eyes.

“Really?” Robb hissed between his teeth. “I will give you a very brief introduction to all of them, but then you will find all the courage you need to step out of this car and get inside. My mother bakes the most delicious Christmas cookies you have most likely ever gotten and I can almost smell them all the way here, which makes me quite hungry and impatient at the moment.”

Ilva opened her eyes again and straightened her back. “Fine, after the Stark family crash course I’ll get out of this car.” She turned her head towards him. “But don’t you dare giving me only a very short meaningless summery that’s not at the very least any helpful!”

Robb lifted his hands up and quickly he brushed her lips with his. “I will make sure you are fully armed with all the needed knowledge before you set foot into that house, although I’m fairly certain that not even my descriptions can do justice to their amazingness.”

Ilva crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. She knew she was acting like a scared little child, but this was the first time ever she had a boyfriend and the first time ever she was actually on her very way to meet his family. And she was not lying when she said that she had never been that good with people. During her school years she had been bullied until every little bit of love for herself had crumbled and faded. And even though the bullying had finally stopped now she was a student, she was not exactly very popular when it came to party invitations and friends.

“Sansa, my eldest sister is the strongest and most intelligent Stark sibling you will meet. When she is determined to reach a certain goal, you can be certain she reaches is weeks before the deadline she has given herself.” Robb smiled. “But the characteristic I admire the most in her, is her ability to dream and have faith in her happily ever after.” He paused for a moment.

“Arya, my youngest sister, is most likely one of the future leaders of our country. Although I doubt she understands society completely, she at least does understand that her mother doesn’t let her play with her brother’s toys because there has once been a guy who was jealous of girls being better kings and knights than he would ever be. One day she will end the patriarchy in this world and although I will be a very proud brother, there will no one be prouder of her than Jon.” The smile on his face brightened.

“Bran has an endless pool of knowledge somewhere hidden in his head. Whenever you have a question, asking him will provide you a much faster answer than searching google. He can end a lot of discussions before they have even fully started yet and although some might see that as a problem and possible way to kill the mood, I like to believe he will eventually be the one holding our family together by assuring no fight will ever become too big to overcome.” He looked at the front door, still closed, as if his entire family was pretending they had not seen them arrive.

“Rickon is our youngest. He has an endless supply of energy and is learning to use it in all the right ways, but he also has those typical children’s problems that seem too small to us, but are truly that important and stiffening to him. It happened quite often that I woke up in the middle of the night because he needed someone to listen to him and hold him. And as an elder brother I have never sent him away.”

“It must be nice to have so many siblings…” Ilva was an only child and although she knew that having siblings maybe wasn’t always that great and wonderful, she had sometimes dreamed of her parents telling her that she would get a baby brother or baby sister.

“If you get out of the car and walk to that front door with me, they will without a doubt welcome you with wide open arms into our family and they will without a doubt be your siblings too.”

Ilva smiled and Robb smiled back at her, a relieved sigh escaping his lips when she eventually pushed the door open and stepped out. “Let’s do this.”

“They will certainly love you almost as much as I do, Ilva the Winter.”


	21. Life with Jon 7

 

Ilva knew there was nothing to be nervous about, but still her heart was racing in her chest and the palms of her hands were sweating when she rang the doorbell of the house that had become her second home over the last few years.

Somehow it was weird to be here without him, without Robb. No matter how often the entire family had assured her that she was as much part of the family as anyone else, it didn’t feel like it right now. This was Robb’s family and now Robb was gone, she was nothing but an intruder, a stranger showing up on their doorstep without the actual reason to be there.

“Ilva?” Sansa opened the door and she immediately wrapped her arms around Ilva’s neck. “I’m so glad you came and I’m sure mother can’t wait to see you either.” She stepped back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked years older than she should be, the grief and pain visible in her eyes and smile. “She even came out of bed for you.”

Ilva curled her lips up into a slight smile and swallowed. “I’m sorry that it took me this long, it’s just…” Ilva stepped in and let her eyes wander over the walls, covered in pictures from the Stark family. She didn’t dare to look too closely though, too afraid that all those pictures of Robb would break something that had finally started healing a little.

“We understand.” Sansa nodded and then she greeted Jon who was silently following Ilva into his own house. “Jon told us you’ve passed your exams?” Sansa opened the door to the living room and Ilva held her breath when she saw Catelyn Stark for the first time since the funeral of her eldest son.

Catelyn had always been pretty and even beautiful. And even though she had always worn the scars of losing her husband too soon and being left behind with an entire family she had to take care of on her own, she had always carried a certain grace and strength too. But all of that seemed to be broken en shattered right now. She had dark circles under her eyes and had not bothered to do her make up in the morning. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which felt strangely abnormal. Her once perfectly fitting clothes were now barely hiding how much weight she had lost.

Ilva tried to fight the upcoming tears for a few seconds, but then she gave up and set the salted tears free while she walked towards her mother in law. “I miss him so…” She bit her lip and waited for Catelyn to stand up and grab her hands. “I can’t imagine how much you must miss him.”

Catelyn squeezed Ilva’s hands and then she allowed her own tears to roll down her cheeks too. “When Ned died I had the children to live for, but now Robb died…” She stopped in the middle of her sentence, but Ilva felt what Catelyn didn’t dare to say. She had nothing to live for anymore, she had no reason to keep on fighting anymore. The kids were older now and capable of taking care of their own, and her eldest, who had always been her favourite, was now gone, reunited with his father.

Ilva wanted to say a thousand things to encourage Catelyn, that there was still a future, a reason to live and to go on. But she knew all too well that none of those things would matter much.

Catelyn had lost her husband and her eldest son within a short amount of time. It was a pain no woman should ever have to bare.

“I understand.” Ilva spoke softly and she locked her glance with Catelyn’s for as long as she dared.

“I’ve heard you’re slowly picking up the pieces of your life.” There was no judgement in her voice, but there was no pride or joy in there either.

Ilva nodded. “I’m trying to.” Ilva looked over her shoulder and she saw Jon staring at her and Catelyn from a safe distance. “And I’m glad that Jon is there to help me through all of this. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me without him.”

Catelyn’s lips formed a straight line and she nodded, without saying another word. The judgement she had kept from her voice, was now visible in her eyes though and Ilva bent her head to stare at her feet.

At some point she would have to ask Jon to go back home again. At some point she would have to start living on her own again. At some point she would have to move on without him. But strangely enough the thought of him leaving again made her uncomfortable.

“The cemetery is only a few minutes walk from here. Shall we go there first and have tea afterwards?” Catelyn straightened her dress and Ilva nodded.

“Jon and I bought flowers and I…” She licked her lips. “I think I’m finally ready to see it without completely crashing and breaking.”

The judgement in Catelyn’s eyes slowly faded and Ilva turned around to take the small flower bouquet from Jon.

“The blue of the lilies isn’t exactly the same as the shade of his eyes, but when I saw them they reminded me of him.” Ilva touched the delicate flowers with the tips of her fingers. Right now she could still remember the exact shade of blue his eyes had been. She wondered when that would stop, when she would forget, when she would see a shade of blue without knowing if it was exactly like his eyes were or not.

“They’re beautiful, Ilva.” Catelyn walked past her and Ilva turned around to follow her. “Jon? Sansa? Will you make sure to have the tea ready when we get back?”

Ilva opened her mouth to say that she wanted Jon to come with her, that she wanted him to be there in case she would break and shatter, in case the fading pain would come back in full force, in case she wouldn’t be capable of controlling her emotions. But she realised that this was something she and Catelyn had to do together, without Jon, without Sansa, without anyone. No matter how hard it would be.


	22. Wedding Day 8

 

There was a long silence after the last tone of Margeary’s song fade away. No one dared to cough, no one dared to break the atmosphere she had created.

Ilva was holding onto Jon and she was certain that she wouldn’t let him go anymore today. She was walking the fine line between breaking and overjoy and Jon was the only one who kept her from falling to one side or the other. She took a deep breath and she looked over her shoulder at the blonde haired princess like girl who walked back from the microphone to her seat.

Margaery had a smile on her face. She always had. She was the kind of person who could make everyone feel at ease, without even trying. She had always given Ilva the feeling that she belonged, that they were best friends and that Margaery would always be on her side.

Ilva smiled at her and Margaery smiled back and then the priest coughed interrupting the small moment.

“I would like to invite Maria the Winter for the first reading.” His voice was steady and he watched Ilva’s mother stand up from her seat, walking towards the microphone.

Ilva’s glance rested on the paper her mother was holding. Maria’s hands were shaking slightly and Ilva knew that was mostly because she was afraid of her daughter’s reaction on the text she would read. But Ilva wouldn’t have wanted her to read any other text. All the other texts seemed unfitting, too happy, too focussed on the joy of love.

“The first reading is taken from Genesis 24.” Maria tried to relax a little, but she avoided Ilva’s glance and Ilva couldn’t blame her for it.

Ilva turned towards Jon and in that moment he looked at her. Their eyes met and he nodded encouraging.

They had agreed that this was the text they wanted Maria to read today. When a huge pile of papers had been scattered across the kitchen table, this had been the text that stood out, the text that spoke to their hearts, the text that found words for what they had been through, what they were still going through.

“‘Do you wish to go with this man?’ She answered: ‘I do.’” Maria’s voice trembled a little as if she was already afraid of the very last lines of this verse, of this passage.

Ilva wasn’t afraid of them. Ever since she and Jon had picked this text to be read, she had read the words over and over. Strangely enough she had never cried while reading them. Somehow this text had always brought a smile to her face, as if somehow it was comforting that somewhere in the Bible they spoke about love being able to bring light to the life of those who mourned. She was not denying her love for Robb by loving his half brother. She was not forgetting him. She was not replacing him. She had simply found the one person who could make her feel lighter and better. Who could chase away the winter cold.

“Sister, may you grow into thousands of myriads; And may your descendants gain possession of the gates of their enemies.”

Jon tightened his grip on Ilva’s hand.

Ilva only noticed now that their seats were quite a bit apart and she fought the instinct to shove hers closer to his. Sometimes she dared to wonder what would have become of her if she had not had Jon, if he had not reached out to her in the darkness, if he had not encouraged her to keep on living and dreaming, if he had not been there to catch her.

Jon liked to think that there would have been someone else. He was certain that somewhere in the world there would have been someone else who could do what he had done if he had not been there.

But Ilva didn’t dare to be sure of that. She didn’t dare to believe that someone else would have accepted that the rest of his life he’d have to share her with a man who was dead. She didn’t know if there was any other man who would have accepted her, a little broken, a little hurt, a little covered in stitches. She wasn’t sure if anyone would have had the patience to wait for her, to give her all the time she needed to find the courage to give in to what her heart had already known way before she had.

“One day towards evening he went out in the field. And as he looked around, he noticed that camels were approaching.”

A smile spread across Ilva’s face and once more her glance found Jon’s.

Jon had been in the shadow of his brother for as long as she could remember. He had always been friendly, but he had also always stepped aside to give Robb the stage to shine. He had always sold himself short. He had never seen all the qualities he possessed, everything he had to offer a girl, a woman. And even though he could get probably every girl he would set his mind on, he had chosen to marry the girl who had planned on sharing the rest of her life with his brother. And sometimes Jon confessed he still believed he was only walking in his brother’s shadow, no matter how often Ilva tried to convince him he was not.

“He married her, and thus she became his wife. In his love for her Isaac found solace after the death of his mother Sarah.”

Everyone around them held their breath and Catelyn’s sniffed softly, almost not hearable.

Jon was not walking in Robb’s shadow. Jon was the only one who could lure her out of the darkness, out of the shadows into the sunlight. He was the only one could chase away the nightmares. He was the only one who could make her believe in her again. He was the one who gave her the confidence that she was ready to face the world and just like she carried Robb with her wherever she went, she also carried Jon with her.

If she was fighting the ghosts following her around everywhere, Jon’s image was whispering in her ear that she could do it and that he believed in her.

Ilva smiled even brighter at the handsome young man next to her. She couldn’t wait to officially become his wife, to tell him all the words she had prepared for him.

And considering the bright smile he smiled back at her, Jon couldn’t wait to become hers either.


	23. Life with Robb  8

 

Robb was holding Ilva’s hand firmly while he searched for his key in the pockets of his jacket. He however didn’t get the time to find them. The door already opened and a young girl looked at Robb, at Ilva, back at Robb and then back at Ilva.

“You’re Ilva.” She let her glance wander over Ilva and Ilva shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Robb can’t shut up about you. It’s a little annoying actually, but you indeed look pretty.” She opened the door a little further and with Ilva’s hand still firmly in his Robb stepped inside.

He pressed a soft kiss to his sister’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Arya Stark, I see that you have not lost your unladylike tongue yet?” He looked at Ilva and shrugged his shoulders as a silent apology before he started smiling and let his free hand go through Arya’s hair. “I know that your mother doesn’t agree with me, but I hope you will never lose it.” He whispered and winked and then Ilva started smiling too.

“Arya!” A boy with reddish curls ran into the hallway, past Arya and then stood still only a few inches away from Ilva. “Ilva?” He looked up at her. His eyes were wide open and then he unexpectedly wrapped his arms around her leg. “If Robb loves you, you must be amazing.”

“Okay…” Ilva felt a little uncomfortable, but she wrapped her free arm around the little boy. “You must be Rickon, I think?” She cocked her head slightly and the boy stepped back nodding proudly.

“Yes! I’m the youngest. They say I look a little like Robb and Sansa and mama.” He straightened his back and lifted his chin. “One day I will get a girlfriend just as amazing as you are.” He turned around before Ilva could react and Ilva felt her cheeks heating up.

“I told you they would be welcoming you with wide open arms.” Robb leaned towards her and let go of her hand to help Ilva out of her thick winterjacket.

She wore a simple dress, covering her knees and with long sleeves. She was not sure what you were supposed to wear when you were to have dinner with your family in law to be, but Robb had complimented her when he had seen her, so she assumed this had been a nice choice.

“Bran!” Rickon’s voice echoed through the entire house. “Robb and Ilva are there!”

“One more chapter.” A muffled reply came from the living room and Ilva and Robb exchanged a glance before they both started laughing, knowing all too well that they would have reacted exactly alike if they had been younger, and maybe even now.

“Bran!” Rickon raised his voice even more and Robb pulled Ilva towards the living room.

“I propose we will introduce ourselves to Bran so he can enjoy the rest of his book without Rickon constantly disturbing him.” Robb didn’t give any attention to the Christmas tree, almost that high that it touched the ceiling, the thousand Christmas cards covering the walls, the pictures decorating what little place was left. “Bran?” Robb cleared his throat and Bran looked up from his book.

He was reading something Ilva wouldn’t expect a boy his age to read, but then she remembered what Robb had told her about him and she folded her hands in front of her while Robb wrapped an arm around her waist.

“I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Ilva.” Robb looked at Ilva and Ilva hesitated for a moment.

Was she supposed to extend her hand now? Should she just nod? Did she have to say something? Was Bran the kind of boy who liked being greeted by a kiss? A hug? Would he prefer her to do nothing at all?

“You’re exactly like he described.” Bran stood up from his seat and then extended his hand so Ilva could shake it. “The wolves of Mercy Falls wasn’t exactly my kind of book, but at least it’s much better written than Twilight.” He let his glance wander over her. “But it doesn’t compete with Lord of the Rings.”

“Bran…” Robb curled his lips up into a slight smile and then cocked his head. “Ilva can’t admire Tolkien. I know, it’s quite a disappointment, but even perfection needs to have a flaw.”

“Not liking Tolkien is a huge one, Robb.” Bran smiled back at his older brother. “I’m not sure if that’s something we can overcome.”

“Hey!” Ilva raised her voice. “It’s not that I don’t see that it’s amazing storytelling, it’s just…not for me?” She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. “And if that makes me a typical girl, so be it.”

Bran’s smile widened. “You were right, Robb, I think I already like her.” Bran sat down again and returned to his book, ending the conversation by letting his eyes wander over the written words without paying any attention to his older brother and his girlfriend.

“Rude…” A red haired pretty girl had her arms crossed over her chest while she walked into the living room. She had a smile on her face and wrapped an arm around her brother’s neck while she kissed his stubbled cheek. “Welcome home brother.” She stepped back and then she looked at Ilva. “You must be Ilva?”

Ilva nodded. “And I guess you’re Sansa? Your brother told me some really amazing things about you.” Ilva smiled, but the smile on Sansa’s face didn’t really answer hers.

“Well, I doubt he told as many amazing things about me as he told about you.” Sansa held our her hand and her grip was firm and almost painful. “Mother asked if the two of you could come to the kitchen. She’s still busy with our dinner for tonight, but she can’t wait to meet you.” Sansa’s eyes kept on staring at Ilva’s face and Ilva took another deep breath, stepping a little closer towards Robb.

“Thank you, Sansa.” Robb nodded at her. “I hope mother also baked her famous Christmas cookies, because I’ve been longing for them for weeks now.”

Sansa shrugged. “Just go to the kitchen and find out for yourself.” She stepped aside and Robb walked past her and Ilva reached for his hand when she followed him.

“Stop!” Rickon stood in front of the kitchen door. He wore a helmet and he held two wooden swords in his hands. “You can’t go to the kitchen!” He spoke firmly. “There is a big bad dragon trying to eat us. If we don’t stop him first, he will come after you and eat all the cookies!”

Ilva raised her eyebrows, but Robb let her hand go and kneeled down in front of his younger brother. “How did that big bad dragon get past our carefully crafted defences?”

Rickon shook his head. “I tried to stop him. But this is a really bad dragon! He destroyed everything and he almost killed me!”

“Then we must show that dragon that he can’t just walk into our house and steal our cookies, I suppose.” Robb reached for one of the wooden swords and with a way too serious look on his face he started eyeing their surroundings. “Ilva?” He looked at her and winked. “I assure you there is nothing to worry about. Knight Robb and knight Rickon will slay that dragon and save both you and the precious cookies.” He shove her behind his back. “But I will hate myself if any harm comes to you, so please stay behind us so we can defend your honour and life.”

Ilva smiled a bright smile and she looked at the boyish grin on Robb’s face. “O, brave knight Robb and brave knight Rickon, where would I be without you?” She pressed herself to Robb’s back while he and Rickon made their way through the hallway.

They held their wooden swords in front of them and no matter how ridiculous it looked, it was maybe Robb’s best look so far. There was a certain kind of joy in his eyes, a certain kind of playfulness in his smile and it seemed as if the young boy he had once been broke now through the facade of the young man he had become after his father had died.

“There!” Rickon nodded at a big black curtain. “The dragon! We have to be quick!” Rickon stepped forward, but Robb grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“What did I teach you, Rickon?” Robb stared at him seriously. “You can never attack a big bad dragon without a solid plan.”

Rickon nodded firmly. “What’s the plan?”

Robb smiled and Ilva kept on holding onto him, pretending to be the poor damsel in distress. “We will use this pretty maiden as a distraction. We all know that big bad dragons have a soft spot for beautiful princesses.” Robb looked at her and winked once more. “And when he is captured by her beauty, you will attack him from the left, while I will take his right side.”

“Ilva?” Rickon looked up at her and Ilva nodded. “Don’t be afraid. We won’t let the dragon hurt you.” The sincerity in his voice was endearing and Ilva took a deep breath, acting like she was terrified.

“I trust you, knight Rickon and knight Robb.” Ilva straightened her back and turned towards the black curtain. “Hey!” She yelled. “Big bad dragon! I’m here! Damsel in distress! And totally alone and helpless!” She blinked a few times and then she saw her two knights rushing towards the black curtain, swinging their wooden swords until pearls of sweat covered their foreheads and their curls were glued to their soaked skin.

Eventually Rickon stepped back. “The dragon is dead.” He leaned on his wooden sword and Robb was clearly out of breath while he did the same.

“Once again, a rather successful adventure from knight Rickon and knight Robb!” He winked once more at Ilva and Ilva smiled back at him.

“My two heroes.” She pressed a soft kiss on Rickon’s cheek and then she leaned on the tips of her toes to kiss Robb’s lips. She had thought that she couldn’t fall more in love with Robb Stark, but it seemed she had been wrong. Because she had never been more in love with him than she was right now.


	24. Life with Jon 8

 

Ilva was not sure what she had expected. The last time she had been here, the grave had been nothing but a pile of earth, a big hole, a mess. Now the grave was neatly taken care of, a huge stone keeping the wooden chest, and Robb’s lifeless body, sealed away from the outside world. Fresh flowers covered the grey stone and the words written on it.

“Beloved son, brother and lover.” Catelyn stood next to Ilva with her hands folded in front of her and tears rolling down her cheeks. “I had wanted to ask you what you wanted, but…” Catelyn paused for a moment and reached for Ilva’s hand to squeeze it tightly. “I couldn’t.”

Ilva curled her lips up into a slight smile. “I understand.” She let out a deep breath and kneeled down. The grass was slightly wet from the early morning rain and the stone was ice cold, but still it felt nice to touch it, to know that Robb was there, out of reach but still closer than he had been during the last few months. “I should have come sooner, but…”

“I understand.” Catelyn replied and placed a hand on Ilva’s shoulder. “The moment you walked in, I knew that he would never stop loving you. You were his sunshine, his reason to live, his motivation to wake up in the morning and to at least attempt to get his grades up.” She paused for a moment. “When he told me he was sent to Afghanistan and had accepted the offer…” She swallowed her tears away. “I couldn’t believe he would do that after what had happened to his father, to our family, to us. Because I didn’t think he could ever do something like that to you.”

Ilva turned her face towards Catelyn. “His honour, I’ve always told him that one day it would be the death of him and us.”

“And that’s what it became,” Catelyn finished Ilva’s sentence for her and in that moment Ilva felt her tears escaping her eyes too.

“Somehow he thought that he had the right to steal our future, because somehow he believed that this was the only way for us to have one. He could have been and become so many things. But he wanted to make you proud. He wanted to make his father proud. He wanted to not be a failure.” Ilva sniffed and shook her head. “But he has never been a failure to me. How could he? He was all I ever wanted, with all this imperfections that made me love him so much more.”

Catelyn moved a little closer towards her. “You’re much too young to have your entire future taken.” She hesitated. “When I lost my husband, I had a family to live for, counting on me. My family can live without me now and after losing both my husband and my son, I don’t know if I can really live ever again, but you…” She turned towards Ilva and grabbed her hands firmly in hers. “You’re only twenty. You have your entire life waiting for you. I would have wanted to see you with my son. I would have wanted to see you with my grandchildren, but you’re only twenty and that was not the only future written and possible for you.”

Ilva wiped her tears away from her cheeks and thought about what she wanted, what she needed, what she wished and longed for. She wanted to finish her studies and become the teacher she had always dreamed to be. She wanted to read books every night, with a burning candle next to her and her feet on the table. And she wanted Jon to bring her hot tea and something to eat, because without that reminder she would forget her hunger and her thirst.

Jon.

Somehow she had grown so used to his constant presence, that he slipped into her new dreams. She imagined him walking through the house, making her dinner when she would come home after a tiring day. She imagined him surprising her with packages containing new books, with tickets to an opera or musical. She imagined him smiling at her and her smiling back at him.

“You know how I feel about Jon.” Catelyn’s voice hardened. “But…” She licked her dry lips. “I also know how Robb always felt about him, how much Robb loved him.” She lifted her chin and straightened her back. “You won’t see me happy if you decide that he’s your new future. But if that’s what you want and need, I believe that Robb would have wanted you to go for it.” Catelyn turned around and walked away. She left Ilva behind, alone at the grave of the boy she had lost way too soon and had loved way too much.

“It’s weird…” Ilva spoke. She wasn’t sure who she was talking to and she was even less sure if whoever she was talking to was listening. “I know that your mom is right. You would have wanted me to live. You would have wanted me to move on. You would have wanted me to find a new love and a new future.” Ilva stared at the cold grey stone, at the words carved in there and she replaced her own bouquet of flowers and all the other flowers so she could actually read the word that was meant for her, that was meant to show the world that he had left her behind.

“But not yet, not right now. We’ve buried you a couple of months ago and it feels too soon, way too soon…”

A soft breeze touched her cheeks and Ilva threw her head in her neck to enjoy the cold wind to the absolute fullest. It embraced her like a pair of strong arms and in the back of her mind she could hear her own subconsciousness talking with his voice.

“Follow your heart.”

Ilva was not sure what it meant. She was not sure what her heart said or wanted. “I’ll try to figure out what it says and wants…” Ilva nodded, as if that voice in her head could see her. “But slowly, very slowly.” Ilva shook her head now. “Because I can’t and won’t let you go. Never.”


	25. Wedding Day 9

 

The last tone of Margaery’s next song died away and Ilva held her breath while he priest cleared his throat. “I would like to invite Catelyn Stark for our next reading.” He didn’t know what Ilva and Jon had asked her to do. He didn’t know how hard this would be for Catelyn.

But Ilva did and in a way she was already regretting it.

It only had seemed fitting at the time. A mother reading a story about love on the wedding day of her beloved eldest son, her sweetheart, her everything. It had been the perfect text for her, for Robb, for the Stark family. But everything had changed now and reading the words now was like asking her to cut herself with a knife over and over again.

But still she stood up from her seat. The eyes of everyone in the chapel burned in Ilva’s back. Catelyn’s footsteps were heavy and slow and she unfolded a piece of paper while she took place behind the microphone. Her eyes went over the lines once more before she coughed and started. “A reading from the first Letter of Saint John.” She paused for a moment, her eyes searching for Ilva’s and Ilva swallowed.

Ilva knew that she should have changed this part of mass. She should have invited someone else to read the text. She should have searched for another text that was more fitting, she should have dived into all the other options. But she had not done so.

Catelyn was Robb’s mother. And even though she was nothing to Jon, it was important to Ilva that she felt part of the family, that she felt wanted, that she realised that even though her eldest son was dead she wouldn’t disappear from Ilva’s life.

Ilva’s kids would call her grandmother. On mother’s day Ilva bought her a bouquet of flowers now Robb couldn’t do so anymore. On Robb’s birthday and date of death they visite his grave together, mourning the person he had been and could have become. And today Ilva wanted her to read the text Robb had always loved so much.

“Beloved, let us love one another, because love is of God.” Catelyn spoke firmly, but her voice was trembling a little and she hesitated after the first sentence already. “Everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows God.” She swallowed and she lowered her glance clearly fighting the tears burning in them. “Whoever is without love…” She held her breath. “Whoever is without love…” She tried again, but the words broke her. Her husband was gone. Her son was gone and in this one sentence everything she felt was represented. Tears rolled down her cheeks and Ilva saw how Sansa stood up from her seat and walked towards her mother.

Sansa wrapped an arm around her mother’s shoulders and she pushed her aside a little so she stood in front of the microphone. “Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love.” She straightened her back and lifted her chin and she looked so grown up, so responsible, so fierce and so strong.

Ilva curled her lips up into a smile while Sansa read the rest of the text.

She held her mother firmly, refusing to letting her go, knowing all too well that this was her mother’s text, her mother’s moment and she didn’t want to take that away from her.

Ilva was young. Marrying Jon was the beginning of a new life, was her second chance. She had more years ahead of her than years she had shared with Robb. She would love Jon longer than she could love Robb.

But Catelyn was older. Her kids were growing up fast, leaving the house one by one to go to college, to find their own little place in the world, to discover where they belonged. And with her husband and son gone forever she would eventually end up all alone in a way too big house.

Ilva had loved Robb for two years. She had two years of memories, two years of conversations, of fights, of laughter and tears. She had two years that she liked to call the most careless years she had ever known, but it were only two years.

Catelyn had lived thirty years with her husband and 22 years with her son. She had given up everything for Ned, for Robb, for all her other children. The ache she felt, the way life had broken her, no matter how much pain Ilva felt, it could never compete with Catelyn’s.

“Beloved, if God so loved us, we also must love one another.” Sansa’s lips curled up into a smile and she even tightened her grip on her trembling mother next to her. “No one has ever seen God. Yet, if we love one another, God remains in us and his love is brought to perfection in us.” She looked up and her glance met Jon’s for a moment before she looked at Ilva.

Ilva nodded at her and she wished she could stand up to comfort Catelyn herself. There would probably be many more moments today to do that, though. All those moments that could have been Robb’s, but were Jon’s now.

Sansa guided her mother back to her seat on the front row before she returned to her own spot. She folded her hands in her lap and bent her head to bite her lip.

Love and pain always went hand in hand. It were two sides of the same coin. Nothing hurt as badly as losing someone you loved, especially when death claimed them too early. But somehow in the darkness of her loss she had also found love again, with a man who understood that this pain would always be part of her for the rest of her life. Even today, on the most beautiful day of her life, she was almost crushed by the most piercing and terrible sadness one could imagine.

“Once more I welcome Margaery Tyrell to sing us a song.” The priest forced Ilva to look up and Margaery’s high heels echoed through the absolute silence after Catelyn’s read.

And even though this was the most beautiful day of her life, Ilva couldn’t help but longing for a normal one right now. Because the normal ones didn’t hurt as badly as the special ones.


	26. Life with Robb 9

 

Robb squeezed Ilva’s hand when they stepped into the kitchen. The smell of fresh baked cookies was filling the air, mixed with a million spices and dishes for the less important dinner. A beautiful woman with reddish hair had her back to the entrance. She wore an apron and was focussed on applying the frosting.

“Mother?” Robb cleared his throat and the woman turned around.

The smile on her face brightened, even though there was something in her eyes that didn’t fully smile along. Maybe it was the loss of her husband or maybe it was the disappointment that her eldest son had not managed to fulfil his studies. “Robb!” She dropped everything right there and then though to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss his cheeks. “You should come home more often, boy.” She stepped back and placed her hands on his shoulders. “They say children stop changing at some point, but for some reason you always look different when I see you again.”

“It could always be your slowly fading memory, of course.” Robb winked and the woman shook her head while rolling her eyes.

“My memory, Robb, is as perfect as it has always been, which means that you and I will have to talk about your future at some point.” Her glance hardened a little. “But I will not spend my Christmas days lecturing you on discipline and perseverance and focussing on what’s really important.”

Robb let out a relieved sigh and then he turned his face to Ilva, who had her hands folded in front of her and shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “I dare to say that I did focus on something very important.” He reached for her hand and pulled her closer towards him. “I agree that I should have focussed a little more on making sure I could stay near her for the rest of my life, but I do not regret any moment we shared.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Mother, this is Ilva the Winter, my girlfriend.” He grinned. “Ilva, this is my mother Catelyn Stark.”

Somehow Ilva had expected the woman to held out her hand, but instead she wrapped her arms around Ilva and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Whoever makes my son the happiest man alive must be a very special person.” She stepped back and smiled. “Welcome to the Stark family. I hope my children behaved a little?”

Ilva smiled back and nodded. “Maybe it was just the first impression, but so far I’d say you have amazing children. I at least know for sure you have one.”

Robb pressed a soft kiss to her hair and then he reached past his mother to grab one of the fresh baked Christmas cookies. The frosting was still dripping a little, but before his mother could say something he had already taken a bite from it. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to tasting these again during the last few weeks.”

Ilva rolled her eyes. “And you call Arya unladylike.” She elbowed Robb and leaned on the tips of her toes to take a small bite from his cookie herself. “You’re not exactly behaving like a gentleman either right now.”

“And here I thought that you were the one wishing for us to live a more realistic life instead of the fairytale I had carefully crafted during our first few weeks together.” Robb pulled the cookie away from her and he quickly put it in his mouth entirely before Ilva could steal another bite from him.

“I’m glad you’re now telling me that you will not share your cookies.” Ilva stuck out her tongue. “I will make sure to keep them hidden from you then.”

“And I will search the entire house until I have found those hidden possessions of yours.” Robb tapped the tip of Ilva’s nose, but he stepped back when Catelyn cleared her throat to remind them that she was still there.

She could however barely hide her amusement and she crossed her arms over her chest while she looked at Robb, at Ilva and then back at Robb. “Robb? Will you show Ilva Sansa’s room so she knows where she sleeps tonight?”

Robb’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest, but before he could even start his sentence his mother already interrupted him again.

“I know very well that I have no idea what the two of you do and don’t do when on campus, but here in my house you sleep in your own bed and Ilva sleeps on a mattress on the floor in Sansa’s.”

Ilva was not sure whether she was relieved or disappointed. In a way Robb had become a part of her life and it was impossible to imagine a future without him, but in a way she also realised that they had met each other only a few months ago and that she was only eighteen. She enjoyed the kissing. She enjoyed his hands touching her shoulders and belly. She enjoyed his hands moving under her bra and brushing her nipples. She liked touching him and letting her hands wander over his naked chest. But she was not sure if she was ready for the next step.

It seemed at least that thanks to Catelyn she didn’t have to think about whether or not she was ready for it tonight or in the nights to come. And knowing her own parents, they wouldn’t let them sleep in the same bedroom during New Year’s Eve either.

“You at least should tell Sansa to sleep on the mattress so Ilva can enjoy a normal bed.” Robb spoke softly and he winked at Ilva while he wrapped his arm a little tighter around her shoulders.

Catelyn raised her eyebrows. “I will tell your sister a lot of things, but I know very well which battles I should fight and which battles I will never win. If you want Ilva to sleep in a proper bed, you can discuss this with your sister yourself, but I suggest not even trying.”

Ilva furrowed her eyebrows, but she decided not to ask about Sansa right now. She had already noticed that the young girl, especially compared to her siblings, had kept her distance. Maybe sharing a room with her would at least give Ilva the chance to ask about it. Ilva wasn’t a natural when it came to making friends, but she was good at having emotional conversations in the middle of the night.


	27. Life with Jon 9

 

Somehow visiting Robb’s grave every week was comforting. She wasn’t sure if he was anywhere to listen to her ramblings, but telling him about her day, about her grades, about Jon, about his siblings. It somehow felt right, as if he was still somewhere near, as if this was the perfect way to prevent that she would ever forget about him.

“Is it okay if I come with you today?” Jon stepped out of the car and hid his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Slowly the autumn wind started to get colder and colder and Jon shivered while he hid his chin in his jacket too. “I know you talk to him and such, but…” He paused for a moment. “We can just go there together and then I can leave you alone afterwards?”

Ilva cocked her head and thought about it for a moment. The last couple of weeks it was as if everything concerning Jon had become complicated. She wanted him out of the house, because she was afraid that one day she would do something stupid like kissing him. But at the same time she didn’t want him to go anywhere else. She wanted to be a strong and independent woman who didn’t need a man, too afraid that if she would rely on someone else like she had done on Robb, she would end up even more broken and damaged. But somehow she couldn’t imagine her future and life without Jon in it anymore either. She wanted him to take a few steps back, to give her space, to leave her alone for a while. And she wanted him to wrap his arms around her and hold her while whispering in her ear that one day things would be fine again.

“It’s fine.” Jon interrupted her thoughts and shrugged. “I’ll just wait here until you get back.” He smiled at her, but there was something in his smile that showed that he was far from okay with this.

“Jon…” Ilva let out a deep sigh and then she reached out her hand, inviting him to grab it. Reluctantly he placed his hand in hers, allowing her to pull him along towards Robb’s grave. “Do you know what my main subject to talk about is?” She swallowed while she stared at the grey stone, at the engraved letters. The tips of her fingers touched the word lover, like she always did. “You, moving on…” She hesitated for a moment. “And most of the time both of them at once.”

Ilva waited for Jon to interrupt her, for Jon to say something. But he kept quiet. He kept awfully quiet.

Ilva didn’t dare to look at him. Instead she just continued talking as if he was not there, even though she was still holding his hand firmly. “I know that Robb would have wanted me to move on somehow. I’m twenty. I’m much too young to spend the rest of my life missing him and mourning him.” Ilva curled her lips up into a slight smile. “Not that I won’t do that, because I will. I will always miss him and always mourn him, but I know I can’t just put my life on hold.”

Jon still didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. Ilva wasn’t even sure if he was still breathing at his point. He was however still holding her hand and he was tightening his grip.

“I went back to college. I made a new friend there and we hang out sometimes to write our essays together, or study in the library or just have a tea in the cafetaria.” Ilva bent her head. “I buy more and more books, putting them in front of the ones that used to be his, because I have nowhere else to put them.” She bit her lip. “I framed a few pictures he totally hated, because they made him look like a teenager and not like the grown up man he liked to be.”

Jon moved a little closer towards her. His body heat warmed her and she could hear him breathing now, faster and heavier than he normally did.

It was weird how normal his presence and his habits had already become to her.

Ilva looked up again, but she still didn’t dare to look at him, at Jon. “And of course, I can stay alone for the rest of my life. There is nothing wrong with never getting married, with never falling in love with anyone again, with not starting that family I’ve always dreamed of.” Ilva swallowed. “But Robb wouldn’t want me to fight it when it happens. He wouldn’t want me to close my heart forever and build a wall around it to prevent anyone from ever breaking it again.” Ilva felt a tear rolling down her cheeks. “Not that it would help if I’d do it, because I think it’s already too late anyway. And I hate it and it makes me angry and I feel horrible.”

Jon stepped closer once more and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Ilva shook her head. “It’s less than half a year since he died. Less than half a year!” She raised her voice. “It feels like my heart is cheating. It feels like I’m betraying him. It feels like I’m stabbing him in the back with a sharp dagger.” Her chest moved up and down rapidly, but she couldn’t push away the weight she carried. “But every time I try to do the right thing. Every time I finally gather the courage to tell you that you have to move out again, that you have to leave, that I’m fine again and can live without you…” She tasted the salt of her warm tears and tried to take a few deep breaths. “I can’t. I don’t want to.”

“It’s okay.” Jon repeated. He had both his hands on her shoulders now and he let his head rest against hers. “You don’t have to throw me out of the house for me to keep my distance.” Jon paused for a moment. “But, if you ever feel ready to take another step.” He breathed in the cold almost winter air. “I’m ready to take that step with you.”

“You’re not helping.” Ilva threw her head in her neck, but the tears kept rolling down her cheeks. “You’re absolutely, totally not helping. It would be so much easier if you wouldn’t have loved me back. If you were just living with me because I was your brother’s fiance and you were worried about me.”

“I know.” Jon nodded. “And just so you know, that was the reason I moved in with you.” He turned his face towards her and Ilva stared back at him, all too aware that she probably looked ridiculous with slime and tears all over her face. “But I stay because of what I feel for you now. I know it’s too soon. I know you’re not ready for it. I get it and it’s okay.” Jon shrugged. “But I can’t just force myself to stop feeling what I feel.” He wiped one of the many tears away. “Just like you can’t.”

Ilva buried her face in his jacket and while Jon wrapped his arms around her she cried and cried until she had no tears left to cry. And all this time he held her, stroking her back and hair and whispering that same sentence over and over.

“It’s okay.”


	28. Wedding Day 10

 

There was a long moment of silence after the echo of last tone of Margaery’s song had faded before the priest walked towards the microphone and cleared his throat. “During the preparations for this day, I had the chance to talk to Jon and Ilva about their lives, what had brought them together and their love. Normally those conversations are easy, light hearted and during my life I’ve heard the most endearing stories about how people met and why they want to share the rest of their lives with the other.” He paused for a moment and he locked his glance with Ilva’s, before he turned his head towards Jon.

The priest had known about Robb when he had walked into the small apartment. He had noticed the pictures on the wall, reminders of different times, when a different man had slept with Ilva in his arms, when a different man had had breakfast with her each morning with the mint tea that made Ilva so sick, when a different man had kissed Ilva goodbye on their doorstep when she left to go to campus and he left to go to work.

Ilva and Jon had purposely hung those pictures there. And around the pictures of Robb they had added their pictures. Pictures of Jon waking up in the early morning, with his hair all messed up. Pictures of their hands entwined while they walked through the park to the cemetery to deliver flowers to Robb’s grave. Pictures of them blowing birthday candles on both their own birthday’s and Robb’s.

“We often think that falling in love happens during the happiest days of our lives. We are visiting parties and all of a sudden the right person shows up at the exact right moment to ask us if we’ve been here more often.”

Ilva bit her lip to keep her laugh from echoing all around her through the church and when she looked at Sansa she saw her sister in law’s cheeks turning a bright pink. It seemed that she had a story to tell and that Ilva would have to ask about it later.

“Some decided to learn how to play a music instrument and fell in love with the teacher.”

Ilva didn’t fight her giggle any longer and everyone in the church behind her chuckled along with her, easing up a little after the tension Catelyn had created. Ilva knew that most of the people here shared her conflicted feelings when it came to today. It was a wedding and not a funeral, but it was still in incomplete wedding, because one piece of the puzzle was missing and had left behind a giant hole that couldn’t be filled by anyone or anything else.

“But happiness, laugher, parties and music aren’t the only things that bring people together. Pain does. Worry does. Mourning does.” The priest let his glance rest on Ilva again. “When we’re young and meet the person we want to share the rest of our life with, we often believe that we have years and years to come. We don’t think about everything that could endanger us. We don’t think about there not being a tomorrow. We believe that what we have will still be there when we come home after a long and tiring day.”

Ilva bent her head and closed her eyes while Jon squeezed her hand to assure her that he was still there, that he was not going anywhere, that he would never go anywhere where she couldn’t follow. And still, she knew that even Jon, no matter how much he wanted to, could promise her that. She didn’t want to think about all the things that could happen to him, about how dangerous riding a car was, how dangerous life in general was, but it was impossible to believe that they were immortal either. Ilva knew better than most girls her age that they weren’t.

Maybe they would live sixty more years together, maybe everything they had now was gone tomorrow.

“It’s hard to imagine a darker time than the moment we realise that our lives on earth can end any second. But it’s exactly in such a dark time that Jon and Ilva found each other, were each other’s light, made each other believe in a future and in a life again.”

The heaviness in Ilva’s chest was slightly released and she looked at Jon to smile at him. When he smiled back she saw a little glimmer in his eyes. Maybe it was a tear, waiting to role down his cheek. Maybe it was the reflection of one of the many candles surrounding them. Maybe it was the light that had guided her when she had thought that everything was lost.

“They saw the ugliest versions of each other and realised that even those versions were worth fighting for. They’ve been through the worst together and have therefore found the best. Maybe it’s not the romantic story people would like to read about or watch, but it is a very powerful story about love and how unconditionally it has to be given. Because when you can love each other at the very worst, it’s even easier to love each other during the better days and a better life.”

Jon’s lips curled up even higher and for a moment time seemed to stand still. Countless of words were said in absolutely silence. Countless of promises were made without them actually needing words to expres them. They’ve seen each other at the very worst. They’ve loved each other at the very worst. No matter what life would bring, no matter what future was waiting for them, they would fight it together, they would live it together.

“Therefore I am honoured that I will bind these noble hearts for ever. I am honoured that I will bless them for now, tomorrow and eternity. And I am honoured to know that these two people will remind the entire world that there is always light, even when you least expect it.” He paused for a short moment. “Therefore I would like to invite the bride and groom to stand up, so I can give you the sacrament of marriage.”

Ilva stood up from her seat and Sansa rushed towards her to adjust her dress a little so it would look even prettier on pictures than it already did. Ilva reached for Jon’s hands and she made sure to steady herself when she realised that those were her last few seconds as Ilva the Winter. Within a few minutes she wouldn’t be just anyone’s wife. She’d be Jon’s wife.


	29. Life with Robb 10

 

Strange sounds kept Ilva awake. She turned from one side to the other and back. She attempted to rearrange her pillows and she tried to find a little bit of light to keep her orientated.

“Are you gonna toss and turn all night?” Sansa’s sharp voice pierced the silence and Ilva let out a deep sigh. “Or is that your attempt to make me offer you the bed instead?” Her voice sounded cold, a little distant and the frustration spilled through it.

“Apart from trying to fall asleep, I’m honestly not attempting anything.” Ilva folded her hands behind her head and stared at the glow in the dark stars covering the ceiling. “I’m not really used to sleeping in another bed apart from the two beds I have.”

“Yours and Robb’s.” Sansa spoke softly and Ilva sat up to stare at the silhouette of the red haired girl in the bed.

“Mine and mine, actually.” Ilva shrugged. “My bed in my dorm and my old bed, at my parents’ place.” Maybe opening up a little would ease the clearly non existent relationship between her and Sansa. “I never slept in Robb’s bed and he never slept in mine.”

“You didn’t?” Sansa sat up too and the surprise was hearable. “I did. We all did.” She turned around and leaned against the wall. “When we have nightmares, he’s the one we go to. He never kicked any of us out of his bed before. Not me, when I was younger and terrified of lightning. Not Arya when Jon was staying over at a friend and she didn’t know where else to go because she had heard a sound in the living room and didn’t dare to look. Even Bran slips into Robb’s bed now and then. And Rickon…Of course.”

Ilva’s lips curled up into a smile when she thought about Rickon and Robb, fighting that big bad dragon in the hallway. “Rickon and Robb have a great relationship, have they?”

“We all have a great relationship with Robb.” Sansa spoke firmly. “He used to read stories to me. Mostly fairytales, but when I got older also other stories.” She let out a deep sigh. “Now he’s filling Rickon’s head with all this nonsense about knights and big bad dragons.”

“Nonsense?” Ilva cocked her head and tried to stare at the girl on the bed, even though it was hard to see her in the dark.

“All those fairytales, all those stories. It’s nonsense.” Sansa turned her face away. “There are no knights who save damsels from big bad dragons. There are no charming princes.”

“Sansa!” Ilva stood up and tried not to trip over anything while she made her way to the bed. “Why would you say something like that?” Ilva sat down on the edge of the bed at a safe distance from the girl she barely knew. “Why would you believe something like that?”

“Because it’s true!” Sansa raised her voice. “That charming prince those books always talk about? He’s horrible! He’s mean, he’s violent and he laughs every time he breaks my heart.” Sansa leaned back against the wall and Ilva wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw tears glimmering on the girl’s cheeks. “And there is not one knight that comes to my rescue. No, those knights only make it worse.”

Ilva let out a deep sigh and then she moved closer towards the girl. She leaned to the wall and sat there next to her, their hips touching. “I’m sorry that you’re in the middle of the hard part of your story.” She thought about her own high school years, about the constant whispering behind her back, about the fake spiders in her backpack because everyone knew how terrified she was of them, about the laughing and the teasing whenever she raised her arm because she knew the answer to a question.

“I know what he sees in you…” Sansa looked at Ilva and Ilva furrowed her eyebrows, even though she knew Sansa wouldn’t be able to see it in the dark. “You’re the princess I no longer am.”

Ilva shook her head. “Do you know why I read and love it so much?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Do you know why I like all those stories about dragons and damsels and knights and princes and fierce girls who save themselves?”

There was a moment of silent. “No, I don’t.” Sansa’s voice was sharp.

“Neil Gaiman said it a lot better than I do, to be honest, but let’s give it a try.” Ilva pulled her knees up and pressed them to her chest. “What you’re facing right now, those are the dragons and the monsters. Those are the villains in your story. They’re not the knights, they’re not the princes.” Ilva swallowed. “Because that part of all those fairytales and books is true too. Villains, monsters and dragons: they all exist.” Ilva turned towards Sansa. “But you know what all those stories taught me? What all those fairytales showed me? What Robb is teaching Rickon every time they fight with the curtains?”

Sansa shook her head.

“That dragons can be beaten too. It takes strength and bravery and courage. It’s not easy and it will never be. But we can beat them. And Sansa…” Ilva reached for Sansa’s hand and much to her surprise the girl didn’t pull her hand back. “If you want, I can give you quite a few books where the princess doesn’t need a prince or knight to save her. Because we princesses, we can absolutely and totally save ourselves just as well as men can. And most of the times, we are the ones saving the princes and knights.”

Sansa didn’t answer. For a long while there was nothing but absolute silence.

“I’d love to read those stories.” Sansa squeezed Ilva’s hand and Ilva squeezed back.

“I’ll write down a few recommendations tomorrow. I’m sure you’re gonna love them and I know that whatever is going on in your life right now and whoever those stupid villains and dragons are, you can beat them and save yourself.”

“Ilva?” Sansa swallowed and let Ilva’s hand go. “I know how you can sneak into Robb’s room without mother noticing it. Do you want me to tell you about it?”

Ilva thought about it for a moment and she thought about the story she had just told Sansa, how princesses didn’t need princes or knights in shining armour. “I don’t want to make your mother angry or upset her. I’ll be fine here, on the mattress on the floor.”

Sansa let out a soft laugh. “You’ll be better in Robb’s bed. Trust me. It’s very comfortable.” Sansa climbed out of the bed and on the tips of her toes she walked towards the door. “Those princesses who save themselves?” Sansa turned around and looked over her shoulder. “Do they still get a prince or knight at the end of the story?”

Ilva shove to the edge of the bed too and placed her feet on the cold floor. “Some of them, yes. Not all of them want one.”

“I want one.” Sansa opened the door slightly and whispered. “One like you have. And if it had been me sleeping on the floor in his sister’s bedroom, I would have sneaked out hours ago already.”

Ilva stared at Sansa. “How do I do it?”

“You close the door of my bedroom behind you and go to the toilet. When you come back, you open his door and sneak in.” She shrugged. “No one hears if it’s the right door you’ve opened and closed.”

Ilva curled her lips up into a smile and she wrapped her arms around the pretty girl, almost a lady, in front of her. “Thanks.” She stepped back and sneaked through the open door. “Sleep well and see you tomorrow!”

“Make sure you’re back before the alarm goes off.” Sansa closed the door and Ilva felt her heart beating in her chest.

She was gonna do it. She was gonna sneak into Robb’s room and into his bed. And in her enthusiasm and nervousness, she almost forgot to go to the toilet first.


	30. Life with Jon 10

 

Somehow Ilva had hoped that with time her feelings would change. She had hoped that talking to Robb’s grave, and hopefully his ghost still lingering around there, would clear her mind and erase the doubts and worries. She had hoped that Jon keeping his distance while simultaneously keeping an eye on her would free her from conflicted emotions of love and guilt. But no matter how many weeks passed, nothing changed.

The last thing she had wanted to happen had finally happened. Her life was standing still. She was attending her classes and taking her tests, passing them all without even too much effort. But she was not really moving or going anywhere. She did her homework, read some books, ate her dinner and went to bed. Only to repeat that same circle the next day and the next day and the day after.

“Damn it…” Ilva threw her book through the room, regretting it immediately when she heard the ripping of pages when the book reached the wall. “Double damn it…”

“Did the book harm you?” Jon curled his lips up into a smile while he lifted the book up and tried to rescue as many pages as he could. “Everything okay?” He looked up and when his eyes met hers, Ilva shook her head.

“Nothing is okay!” She raised her voice. “I feel like time is frozen while the world is still turning. I feel like there are a thousand things happening around me, but not one of those things is actually happening to me. And I know it’s because I refuse to move on. Because the only way for me to move on, is to admit that I’m in love with you so we can figure out if we can somehow make this relationship work. And if I do that, I feel like I’m cheating on a man who’s dead.” She buried her fingers in her hair and messed it up. “Whatever I do, it frustrates me, makes me angry and makes me feel horrible.”

Jon slowly walked towards her. He placed the book on the table in front of her, but he didn’t say anything.

And that silence frustrated Ilva even more. “Why did the bloody idiot die?” She threw her head in her neck. “Everything would have been so much easier if he had just come home!” She let out a deep breath. “We’d be finishing up the preparations for the wedding, I’d make a huge secret out of my dress and he’d make a huge secret out of the flowers.” Ilva sniffed. “We’d wonder if anything would change after getting officially married. What’s the difference between living in the same house and being in love with or without that official paper to prove that you’re gonna stay together for the rest of your lives?”

Jon grinned and he sat down on the edge of the chair opposing hers. “And yet, he’d think of it as the most important thing to ever happen to him, as something honourable, as something that would have made a true man out of him.”

Ilva raised her eyebrows. “He always was a true man to me. Maybe if he had actually understood that instead of making me repeat it over and over again, he still would have been here right now.” Ilva crossed her arms over her chest. “Who cares how much who earns? Who cares who pays the bills? Who cares who protects whom against whatever?”

“He did and he’d always done. He’s a lot like our father when it comes to that.”

“Yeah, and they’re both dead now. Great personality trait it seems.” Ilva let out a deep sigh. “What about your honour?”

Jon shrugged and he let his elbows rest on his knees. “It’s not like I don’t have it. I’m my father’s son too, but…” Jon hesitated for a moment. “I don’t believe that war or whatever is truly honourable. It’s glorified a lot in those books the two of you read, but from what I see of it, it’s nothing but ugliness where in the end everyone forgets whoever started the fight and what it even was about.”

Ilva cocked her head and thought about it for a moment. “But you still want to make sure you earn more than I will? You still feel like you have to protect me and I can’t protect you?”

Jon licked his lips and then he reached for Ilva’s hand, holding it firmly between his own. “Me moving in here to look after you, that wasn’t just about me looking out for you.” Jon paused. “It was just as much about being with someone who understood how I felt, who could help me heal and feel better.”

“Arya and Sansa know how you feel. They’ve lost a brother too.” And their father, something Ilva never had to endure. Her father was still there, alive and just as worried about her as Jon was.

Jon nodded. “Yeah, but they’re my little sisters. I couldn’t expect them to really look after me.”

Ilva curled her lips up into a slight smile. The anger she had felt slowly started to fade, but the dilemma she was facing didn’t become any easier. “I’m not sure if I really looked that much after you either. I was trying to deal with myself and honestly, that was quite a lot already.”

“It was enough for me.” Jon whispered and the tip of his finger drew circles in the palm of her hand. It was strangely comforting and Ilva assumed it was just as comforting for him.

“Okay…” Ilva took a deep breath and then she reached for Jon’s other hand. “Let’s do this. Let’s see what happens.” She felt her heart racing in her chest and her excitement fought with her guilt. “Let’s go on a date. Let’s see how it makes me feel and if we still like each other when we do whatever normal couples do when they still don’t know whether or not they love each other.”

Jon froze for a moment and then he smiled. “I’ll take you out for dinner tomorrow evening. We’ll dress up and tell everyone it’s our first date and…” Jon squeezed her hands. “If at any moment you wanna go home or back out, just tell me and we’ll leave.”

Ilva smiled back at him. She was just as terrified as she was happy and she looked up at the ceiling, even though Robb wasn’t there either. “If this is not what you want me to do, this is your last chance to let me know, because…” Ilva swallowed. “If I stand still one more moment, I’ll suffocate myself until I’m nothing but an empty shell.”

And of course she was making it up, but it felt like a warm breeze circled around her as if to tell her that it was okay, that this was okay, that this was what he wanted her to do.


	31. Wedding Day 11

 

Ilva felt her heart beating in her chest, racing like a maniac. She knew she had nothing to be nervous about. They had practiced this part over and over again, until the words were stuck in her memory. She would be able to give the right answers and say the right thing half asleep or drunk. And still she felt the palms of her hands sweating while the Priest asked them the standard questions to make sure they had come here out of free will, voluntarily and with the intent to love each other for the rest of their shared lives.

They both murmured the standard answers, the eyes of the people staring at their backs and then the Priest raised his voice and Ilva and Jon both straightened their backs while they turned their faces to each other.

This was it. This was the moment of today. This was the moment they would officially become husband and wife, they would officially bind themselves to the other.

There was a moment of absolute silence. Not a voice could be heard. Not a scream. Not a breath. And Jon cleared his throat, the sound of it echoing through the entire church. But the moment the first word escaped his lips, the entire church disappeared, the priest disappeared, the people disappeared.

“I, Jon Snow, take you, Ilva the Winter to be my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward.” He paused for a short moment and Ilva let her thumb caress his knuckles. “For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til death do us part, according to God’s holy law. In the presence of God I make this vow.”

A smile spread across Ilva’s lips and she felt the grip on her hand tightening.

“I promise to always put you first. To always think of you before thinking of me. To always choose you above anything and anyone else.”

The smile on Ilva’s face brightened and she almost forgot that she had to say the same words, that she had to vow to love him too. She almost forget that just feeling it wasn’t enough to make it official. “I, Ilva the Winter, take you, Jon Snow to be my husband to have and to hold from this day forward.” She spoke firmly, her voice clear. “For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til death do us part.” She took a moment of silence after that sentence.

This was Jon’s moment. This was the moment she chose him, picked him, married him. But even though this was Jon’s moment, Ilva knew all to well what it meant to be parted by death. And Jon knew it. He nodded reassuringly, squeezed her hands once more and gave her all the time she needed to focus on him again, on his brown eyes staring straight into hers, on his black curls, on the warmth of his smile and tenderness of his touch. “According to God’s holy law. In the presence of God I make this vow.” She took a deep breath. “I promise that wherever you go, I will follow. I promise to support you, no matter what life will throw our way. I promise to be there for you, even when I’m shattered and broken myself.”

A soft sniff thundered in Ilva’s ear. She didn’t want to look over her shoulder. She didn’t want to meet Catelyn’s glance. She didn’t want to see the tears the mother cried because it was not her son standing here, exchanging these vows and making Ilva her daughter. She hoped that Sansa would wrap an arm around her mother’s shoulders. She hoped that Rickon and Bran would be close to her. She hoped that one day she would witness one of her own children standing here.

Instead Ilva kept on looking at Jon, at the lights in his eyes, at the smile on his face and the realisation slowly downing on him that he had her, that she was his and that she would be his for as long as he wanted to have her and even longer.

“May the lord in his kindness strengthen the consent you have declared before the Church and graciously bring to fulfillment his blessings within you. What God has joined, let no one put asunder.”

Ilva swallowed and she leaned forward to kiss Jon’s slightly parted lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and she felt his arms sliding around her to press her as close to him as possible in this wedding dress. She had no idea how long the kiss lasted, how long she lost herself in the man she would have by her side for the rest of her life. But it was her way of telling Jon that she really wanted him, that she really wanted this, that marrying him was the best thing that could happen to her.

And when she stepped back, her lips red and slightly swollen and her cheeks blushing, she realised that she was no longer Ilva the Winter. She was no longer just her father’s daughter. She was no longer the former fiancé from Robb Stark. She was Ilva Snow - the Winter, wife to Jon Snow.

“Did I already tell you how beautiful you look, Lady Snow?” Jon pressed the palm of his hand to her neck and Ilva let out a small giggle when her new name rolled off his tongue so easily, as if he had practiced it a thousand times already.

“Well, technically not.” Ilva pressed her forehead to his and bit her lip. “Because the last time you told me that I looked really beautiful I wasn’t Ilva Snow yet.” She kissed him once more, a short and brief kiss, her lips barely brushing his. “The last time you told me I was still Ilva the Winter.”

“No entirely.” Jon leaned towards her to make sure she was the only one who would hear his words. “You were Ilva the Winter soon to be Snow.”


End file.
